Next week marks the 152nd federally-observed Thanksgiving, and I've had enough.
The traditions of modern Thanksgiving are a celebration of Middle-American mediocrity.
The day is anchored by a boring, bland menu featuring a protein that goes ignored the rest of the year. The tentpole television programming consists of Detroit Lions football, and dated, dreary treacle like Miracle on 34th Street. All of this occurs within the stifling confines of family togetherness.
Thanksgiving is supposed to be about appreciation and gratitude, but I would be most grateful to do away with the day's classic trappings.
Consider this episode of Doug.
Every year, the Town of Bluffington is held hostage by a lifeless pageant to the town's founding. Though the Establishment is resistant to Judy Funnie's contemporary reinterpretation, once presented with her version alongside the original, they realize that meaningless traditions are dead.
Tradition (n.) from the Latin traditum: handed down.
Every year Thanksgiving gets handed down again, yet for whatever reasons, an ever changing country goes back to the same crappy celebration.
This year, my Thanksgiving will be focused on things I'm really thankful for. Chicken nuggets and beer. Happy Thanksgiving!
During last Thursday's game between the Ravens and Steelers, Pittsburgh wideout Darrius Heyward-Bey caught my attention. It wasn't for his nice touchdown catch, but rather that Phil Simms introduced him by his draft status. The seventh-overall selection of the 2009 Draft has never lived down the pick, but not in the way most draft busts do.
That's because DHB is not a real 'bust.' Coming out of college, he was a one-dimensional track star with exceptional straight line speed and little else. The only person who saw a top-10 talent was Al Davis, who selected him to be Jamarcus Russell's top target. The rest was a footnote to history.
Yet no one mentions this with derision or disappointment. DHB is a seventh-year pro on his third team with a steady role among Pittsburgh's deep collection of skill players. That's not much from the seventh-overall pick. But for a combine freak who no one believed in, he's done well.
So well that I'm naming an award after him. A DHB All-Star is an obviously overdrafted player who everyone knew wasn't that good, but carved out a nice career anyway. Some were raw athletes with limited football skills (EJ Manuel), while others mixed first-round hustle with third-round upside (Tyson Alualu). Whatever their story, these players deserve our respect and admiration, but not our awe and amazement.
The 2015 draft class has a few candidates for DHB All-Stardom. The most obvious are Todd Gurley and Melvin Gordon. Despite their exceptional talents, the new prevailing wisdom that halfbacks aren't worth first-round picks discounts what fans expect of them.
Breshad Perriman of the Baltimore Ravens is the most likely DHBAS. After a solid career at the University of Central Florida, he was drafted 26th overall after running a 4.25 at his pro day. He can play, but mostly he runs fast. Sound familiar?
The 2015 NFL season is one week old. The summer was productive in that the league resolved its showcase scandal before kickoff. Deflategate was embarrassing, but unlike the Ray Rice case, it didn't bleed into the games.
For the NFL, it's really time for football. Which means it's time to monetize!
Though the league annually rolls out new officially licensed team apparel, I think it leaves money on the table by not expanding its vintage line. Not throwback logos. Real vintage gear. Before the league mandated all sideline personnel to wear stuff from the catalogue, it had a rich fashion history.
The NFL owns the sporting public's attention around Christmas, making it well-positioned to offer classic looks at prices only a commissioner could afford.
What Chicago Bears fan wouldn't pay more for the Halas collection?
It's sharp. Just like Tom Landry's hat, which will sell out before Halloween at a price of $799.99. $tampede!
The league already experiments with this concept. For just $74.95 you can get a hoodie just like Bill Belichick's!
Other thoughts:
-I don't understand Washington's humiliation of Robert Griffin III. Rather than trade or release him, they choose incremental demotions. By the end of training camp, he was the second-string quarterback. Before Sunday's loss to Miami, he was inactive and had taken scout team reps at safety. As a pure football move, his inexperience makes it hard for him to give the team a good look, and easy for him to get hurt again. The team's approach seems petty and personal.
The trade market will be thin now that his current team values him like an undrafted player. The right move is to release him and use that roster spot on a real backup safety.
RGIII has a future and Kansas City is a good fit. Griffin's combination of accuracy and mobility make him the high-upside version of Alex Smith that could take the Chiefs into serious contention. In light of his work resuscitating the careers of Smith and Michael Vick, Andy Reid may be the best coach for him.
-I'm excited for the Ryan Mallett era in Houston. Having watched him in New England, the arm talent is for real, but so are his struggles on touch throws. Starters' practice reps should help iron those out. As a 27 year-old in his fifth season, his moment is now.
I'm impressed by Houston's short leash with Brian Hoyer. Conservative coaches would have left 'the savvy veteran who knows what it takes in this league' in for several games, but Bill O'Brien and Co. are actually committed to winning now. Mallett may fail, but he has the tools to be a long-term starter, whereas Hoyer is a high-end backup.
-In a similar vein, Rex Ryan's decision to start Tyrod Taylor is even more impressive. Athletic projects like Taylor are rarely worth a draft pick, but Baltimore did a fine job turning a sixth-rounder into a serviceable quarterback. Now Buffalo is reaping the rewards. His real ceiling (or floor) is unclear, but foregoing known mediocrities Matt Cassel and EJ Manuel makes the Bills real challengers to New England for the AFC East.
-Speaking of Matt Cassel, he is now in his 11th professional season. After not starting a game at USC, he has 71 NFL starts. That is more than twice as many as Matt Leinart. Since 2005, he has never been out of work during the regular season. Well done!
In 2011 elBulli closed as a restaurant, and the world lost Catalonia as its capital of culinary cool, with Barcelona serving as its administrative center.
Since then Copenhagen has taken over. Combining the bold artifice of the Barcelona school with the Throw Some Nature On A Plate approach of the farm-to-table crowd, restaurants like Noma and Amass have made the Danish capital the world's capital for culinary cool.
But for how long?
Fine dining has always been trendy, but now more than ever. Through the internet, social media, and Netflix food porn shows, it is now possible for a restaurant to build a greater reputation through fewer actual diners than ever. With this in mind, anticipating new trends is more important than dwelling on current ones.
So what will be the next great fine dining city? My guess is Lisbon, Portugal. The primary reason:
What do you know about Lisbon?
Trendy food spots are always built on some level of general ignorance. How much does the average American know about Copenhagen or Barcelona? What about Denmark or Spain generally? Both countries have a relatively small immigrant population in North America. Neither country has a dish that is commonly made in American homes.
Unlike countries like France or Italy, which have highly formalized culinary traditions, chefs in obscure locales have more leeway to be inventive. Also, when the dining public knows nothing about your city, you can shape their entire opinion with just a TV spot.
Lisbon is the forgotten capital of an irrelevant country. Most American mentions of Portuguese culture are in oblique reference to Brazil. It's also a historic Atlantic port untouched by the World Wars. It still carries mystique as the center of a once great empire... It has a good soccer team?
The point is that Lisbon can be anything an enterprising chef wants it to be. And that's all you need for a great food city.
It's not. It takes a Commitment to Excellence to separate from every other internet hack with his finger of the Pulse of America.
Writing fundamentals matter. The best form of practice is to work on The Standards. By this, I mean tackling classic subjects with an eye towards technique rather than originality.
All creative disciplines have Standards. Every jazz musician can play Autumn Leaves and I've Got Rhythym. Every painter has done a still life of a fruit bowl. Every French chef can make an omelette.
In social criticism, the Death of Baseball is fun and timeless. Each author makes it his own while staying within these guidelines:
1) Baseball is either dead or terminally ill. There can be no recovery.
2) This demise is symptomatic of deeper social ills.
3) The tone is self-righteous.
4) Providing evidence to make your case is discouraged.
With this in mind, I give you The Death of Baseball.
Last Sunday, four men entered the Baseball Hall of Fame, or should I say, the Sarcophagus of the Great American Pastime. Yes, it's true that baseball is dead in the United States. In the past, writers blamed the younger generation. They saw baseball as a mature, cerebral, and detailed game that flew over the heads of addled youngsters. They were wrong. In fact, it's the older generations that have killed baseball.
Let's start with the game's mortal wound: PED's. Nothing is more symptomatic of the deep spiritual rot of the Post-War America. While steroid and HGH use spiked from the mid-1980's on, we must not forget the rampant amphetamine use of 'greats' like Willie Mays and Hank Aaron. Baseball writers cry crocodile tears over the tainted Home Run Race of 1998, while waxing nostalgic over that of 1961. Remember? That was the one Mickey Mantle lost due to an abscess from a steroid injection.
The real tragedy isn't the health risks these players took on. Rather, they cheapened the consummate team game into an exhibition of statistical vanity. The fallout can be seen on major league rosters today, as players such as Alex Rodriguez and David Ortiz, play on solely for money and a chance to climb the all-time home run list. Without a care for how their diminished skills hurt their teams, they slug away, landing another blow on the Dead Horse of Baseball with every lumbering trot around the bases.
Ty Cobb and Honus Wagner never cared about counting stats or home run lists. They played to win. That used to be the only thing this country knew how to do.
Nowadays, the game is practically played by stat crunchers. SABR, that glorified consortium of amateur accountants continues its crusade against the last noble outpost of pre-industrial life. The modern player is no longer a man, but a string of digits. No wonder players were so willing to pump their bodies full of dangerous supplements. What does it matter to something so unhuman?
They may be able to quantify the sound of a bat cracking on a ball, but not the way it makes the hair stand up on a young boy's arm. They can track a center fielder as he chases a fly ball, but what of the way fresh cut grass supports yet yields to his cleat?
The game has ceased to be human. It is like a fresh corpse after a long illness; bearing a passing resemblance to something once vibrant but wasted by its struggle.
The images of Pluto from NASA's New Horizons mission have been the buzz of the scientific community. Among the data, we now have the best images yet of the Cthulhu Regio. This is an exciting development that gives fresh insight into the pre-Earthern existence of the Great Old One.
The midnight hued Regio is dated to 1 billion years old, consistent with the accepted dates of the struggle between Cthulhu and the Elder Things prior to his entombment in the sunken city of R'yleh. The dark hydrocarbon layer that covers the Regio is likely fallout from this ancient battle. Furthermore, the heavy cratering indicates this was an area of intense bombardment, perhaps a critical urban center similar to that reported by Danforth in Antarctica.
Beyond the scientific community, these interpretations face criticism. Human worshipers of Chtulhu place the age of R'yleh at vigntillions of years; a number inconsistent with the age of the Earth. Furthermore, mad philosophers drawing on the Necronomicon identify Chtulhu and his extraterrestrial followers as 'star spawn,' indicating origin beyond the solar system. However, hierolinguists of the pre-galactic period are in agreement that this phrase reflects the Old Ones limited understanding of Chtulhu's true origin, and should not be interpreted literally.
Though the photographic evidence provides a critical window into life before humanity, a new project in Antarctica looks to bring terrestrial geology into the picture. A team of scientists at Columbia University is organizing a drilling expedition to recover samples of the Gamburtsev Mountains. Set thousands of feet beneath the surface ice of Antarctica, the Gamburtsev's are an ever-young mountain range comparable to the Alps. At 1 billion years old, and well-preserved beneath the barren snows, the Gamburtsev's present the best opportunity to recover an intact specimen of an Old One. Of course, there is always the strong possibility of unleashing something of such timeless evil as to make humanity to rue its very existence and pray for a quick return to lifeless star dust.
The United States Treasury has announced that the next redesign of the $10 bill will feature the portrait of a woman, while relegating Alexander Hamilton to a lesser position. The female to be pictured is still undetermined but will be announced later this year.
I'm not a fan of the move. For better or worse, Alexander Hamilton is one of the the most important financial figures in US history and on these grounds alone deserves prominence on American currency.
Fortunately, there's a better way. Taking inspiration from America's most iconic coinage, it's time we scrap individual portraits altogether. Just reacquaint yourself with pieces like the buffalo nickel, or the St. Gaudens Double Eagle and tell me the world's premier currency should serve as a flavor-of-the-month personal tribute (Yes, I know those coins have 'people' on them, but they are not anyone in particular. The Indian head is a composite sketch, while the Double Eagle features a 'Lady Liberty').
Consider James Earle Fraser's concept for the buffalo nickel,
Well, when I was asked to do a nickel, I felt I wanted to do something totally American—a coin that could not be mistaken for any other country's coin. It occurred to me that the buffalo, as part of our western background, was 100% American, and that our North American Indian fitted into the picture perfectly As we rethink the $10 note, it's worth keeping this attitude. For example:
This image of the Montana Rockies is understated, elegant, and leaves room in the sky and foreground for necessary lettering. With this image, Treasury Secretary Jack Lew should use the crosshatched shadows of the foothills to hide his signature. That's the sort of discreet touch that makes for a classic bill. While we're tapping into our natural heritage...
The wild turkey has never been used on currency, and it's a shame. As a herd animal that relies on its pack as well as its own vigilance for protection, the turkey is an excellent symbol of national solidarity. It's positive symbolism and majestic bearing make it worthy of US legal tender. Either of these designs are purely American. They cannot be mistaken for any other countries currency. They are timeless, and subvert the controversies that come with any great person. But if gender balance is your biggest consideration for currency design, there's a solution. Move to Canada.
Last week I cemented my place as a Great American when turned a 10 lb. box of generic 'Snickers' crumbles into an Eighth Wonder of the World. Here is how it went down.
First, I poured out the crumbles onto parchment paper. Then, I hand-formed them into compressed bars.
Each finished Snickers has two bars of compressed crumbles bound by caramel studded with crushed peanuts. When assembled, it looks like this:
The chocolate is tempered and ready to go.
Before the bars are ready for coating, they must undergo a final hand-shaping to ensure consistent dimensions. Chocolate doesn't lie. As it cascades over the bar, it highlights any defect in worksmanship.
First, I coat the bottom by spreading a layer of chocolate on the parchment, and letting the bar set in it. Once dry, it looks like this.
Now chocolate is poured over the bars until they are completely covered. The first attempt is never perfect. The tops of these are a little messy, but after a few repetitions, I will find the right pattern.
There you have it. Until next time, keep dreaming big!
Every now and again I have a great idea. Most are too elegant to work, but this time, I've figured out how to give underprivileged children a leg up in society.
Education is key to a child's future. The problem is what to teach them. Rather than focus on useful skills, I think intangible qualities are most important.
Today's kids need irrational confidence and a bloated lexicon to match. With these, they will be able to craft the veneer of insight needed to make it as...
CONSULTANTS!!!
Consider this:
According to the Bureau of Labor, the median wage of a computer programmer is $76,140 per year. That's a good living until you stack it up against the $97,199 (per www.glassdoor.com) that the average technology consultant makes.
Now is the time to eliminate pointless educational initiatives; especially when so many inner-city high schoolers are still recontextualizing business-facing multi-platform datavation synergetics at a Web 1.0 level.
Rather than learn English, they should learn to speak in six-syllable words.
Rather than learn to count they should learn how to get their suits tailored.
Rather than teach them valuable lessons to nowhere, they need to learn how to bluster through two hour conference presentation without saying anything.
Furthermore, consider the impact on the marketplace. By flooding the world with surplus consultants, we may actually bring their price down.
Summer is almost here and I've begun surveying the live music landscape.
I'm not focusing on major acts or big festivals. Rather, my attention is on the countless bars, patio spaces, and dumpy little joints where the majority of live music will happen. In particular, my attention is on the one genre which has come to define this time and these places: Douchebag Reggae.
It's difficult to define, so I've created a rubric to outline the intensity levels of the genre:
Level 1: Anyone who regards a Jack Johnson concert as a transformative experience in their life. Also, anyone who has ever said, 'Music is my religion.' This level is open to anyone, not just performers. It's about combining smugness with cheap spirituality.
Level 2: Bands whose only influence is Sublime. They may do a typical mix of covers and originals, but that's only because they can't do Santeria for 90 minutes.
Level 3: DJ's with hispanic last names, but otherwise, no connection to Latin America. They don't speak Spanish, or have any knowledge of Latin music. Nonetheless, they assume throwing some synth trumpets in the mix and referring to every woman in their life as 'mamacita' makes them the second coming of Tito Puente. Though not claiming any formal influence from Jamaica, they capture the spirit outlined in Level 1.
Level 4: Bands that perform the greatest hits of Dave Matthews set to the tune of 'Buffalo Soldier.'
Level 5: The Dave Matthews Band.
The genre blew up last summer when Magic! terrorized the airwaves with it's breakthrough (and probably final) hit 'Rude.' Though there have been other eruptions ('Who Let the Dogs Out?'), Douchebag Reggae typically lurks below the mainstream surface.
It is often experienced as a influence on other lame, Carribbean inspired works. I think of it as an attitude more than a rigid musical structure. Douchebag Reggae is the blood in Pitbull's veins though not the rhythm in his words. It's the voice in Katy Perry's head telling her she's 'street' if she references marijuana in her song.
This summer, do your part to stamp out Douchebag Reggae. Write and perform a 40-minute epic about the life of Freddie Green. Cross-dress and sing about Ridin' with Satan. Ignore music all together and hibernate until football season. But don't let Douchebag Reggae win. Otherwise it's a matter of time before we have another 'Rude' blight on our national conscience.
It's been a busy few weeks in Connecticut sports. The important dates:
April 9: New London's own Matt Harvey made his first start after sitting out 2014 due to injury. He threw six scoreless innings to beat the Washington Nationals.
April 15: Bristol's own Aaron Hernandez was convicted of first degree murder in Massachusetts and received a mandatory life sentence.
April 24: Newtown's own Bruce Jenner formally comes out as transgendered in an interview with Diane Sawyer.
April 30: New Britain's own (and University of Connecticut alumnus) Byron Jones is drafted 27th overall by the Dallas Cowboys.
Let's assess:
The Aaron Hernandez conviction is embarrassing but long expected. From here on, he is the Commonwealth of Massachusetts' concern, not mine.
Of real interest is the burgeoning career of Byron Jones. At UConn, he was sold, not special, as both a safety and cornerback.
Then he put on a Barnum sideshow at the Combine, with highlights including a 4.36s 40-yard dash, and a World Record 12' 3'' broad jump. All things considered, it's easy to project him in light of track star busts like Darius Heyward-Bey.
I think he'll follow the example of Dontari Poe, who was just a guy at Memphis, before blowing up the 2012 Combine. He was drafted 11th overall by Kansas City where he has made two Pro Bowls in three seasons. It's unreasonable to think Jones will be that good off the bat, but freakish physical skills are prerequisite for a great corner. Add in his positional versatility and coachability and Dallas made a nice pick.
In other news, Matt Harvey is 5-0 with a 2.41 ERA, a 0.92 WHIP, and almost 7 strikeouts per start. Though it's tragic his talents are wasted on the New York Mets, his lost 2014 season brought him a year closer to free agency without putting innings on that golden arm.
Also, best of luck to Bruce Jenner as he pursues the life he wants to lead. He's on TV, so people think his gender identity is a big deal. It's not.
Let's wrap with a video of Middletown's own Andre Drummond dunking on things. He finished this season averaging 13.8 points and 13.5 rebounds; similar to his 2013-14 line. However, this was his first season playing center for Stan Van Gundy instead of his old position of 'clean up after Josh Smith.' That he maintained efficiency in a more sophisticated system speaks to his progress.
There will be no real NFL news until training camps open. Now is the time for overblown predicions.
Any analysis of your team will end in one of two conclusions.
1) This is OUR FUCKING YEAR!
2) We're totally fucked.
How your team drafted is a big part of the assessment. Internet scouting reports provide a decent overview of a player's potential, but that's for managing the post-free agency hangover. Now is the time to get excited. For that, the best tool is a good old-fashioned YouTube highlight reel.
Let's break down some of my favorite reels and see what they say about the 2015 season. Brandon Scherff, OT, Iowa. Drafted by 5th overall by the Washington Redskins
This video is great because it answers all the FAQ's that come with highly touted lineman.
Q: Yeah he's a bear, but can he move his fat ass?
A: Yes! This video emphasizes Scherff's movement in space. At 2:01 he pulls from inside the hash to the numbers, turns upfield, and then blocks his man into the parking lot. Great quickness, great feet, and great power. Few lineman are that devastating outside the tackle box.
Q: Plenty of kids can run block, but I'm paying (Franchise Quarterback X) $20 million this year! Is this guy gonna keep him on the field?
A: Sure. Check out the play at :59. Rather than committing to the defensive end, Scherff anticipates a blitz and stays patient. When the extra defender comes, Scherff squares him up and puts him on the ground.
Q: Some guys love football. Some guys don't. Which kind am I getting?
A: Did you watch that video? This kid is nasty as Possum Fuck. He lives to wreck people.
In spite of all this, some can't see beyond Scherff's listed height of 6' 5''. As we all know, shortish guys without pornographic combine numbers (like Joe Thomas) can't play tackle in the NFL. For this reason the 2015 Washington Redskins are TOTALLY FUCKED!
Vic Beasley, OLB, Clemson. Drafted 8th overall by the Atlanta Falcons
This video doesn't excite me. Vic Beasley is super-twitchy, but this reel makes me question his pro potential. All we see him do is speed-rush from the outside. He blows away whatever fat kid Directional State X throws at him, but without an inside move, better hand technique, and a few counters, he will top out as a situational player.
He reminds me of Bruce Irvin, who Seattle picked 15th overall in 2012. Great first step, high-motor, and 16.5 sacks through three seasons. That's not bad, but it's not the transformative impact expected of a high first-rounder.
For this reason the 2015 Atlanta Falcons are TOTALLY FUCKED!
Randy Gregory, DE, Nebraska. Drafted 60th overall by the Dallas Cowboys
This is more like it.
Inside. Outside. Playside. Backside. Defense. Special Teams. Run. Pass. This is bad-ass film.
Never mind that there are beefier edge players at your local middle school. Never mind that he may be mentally unstable and shares a locker room with Greg Hardy.
Randy Gregory can ball. He may go down as the greatest two first-name athlete since Ricky Bobby.
In light of this, 2015 is the Dallas Cowboy's FUCKING YEAR!
Malcolm Brown, DT, Texas. Drafted 32nd overall by the New England Patriots
Forget what you just saw. Malcolm Brown is a fine young man and a talented athlete. It doesn't matter.
I'm a New Englander and I know my people. The Puritan legacy lives on through our sporting culture. In our thinking, God is always punishing us. Always. When things are going well, this is an unnatural interlude which only leads to a greater fall.
Other fan bases think God hates them. Not true. They just suck. We are wicked and must be cut down. We may profess otherwise when we see Malcolm Brown blowing up lineman, but in our hearts we know that every move Bill Belichick makes is the one that will finally lead us down the road to oblivion.
This is a fine synopsis of the 2015 New England Patriots.
Wednesday marks one year since Phil Jackson was named President of Basketball Operations for the New York Knicks. He has now had one full free-agency period, one draft, and one trade deadline to make his mark. He has also has the worst team in the NBA.
Far from returning the team to its funkadelic glory days, Jackson has heightened doubts about whether the Knicks can live up to their billing as a signature franchise. The team he has assembled/dissembled is now a collection of journeymen, faded veterans, and overmatched role players. In their most recent game (a loss to Phoenix), the Knicks staring lineup was:
Lou Amundson, PF
Lance Thomas, SF
Andrea Bargnani, C
Alexey Shved, SG
Langston Galloway, PG
Jackson has used his first year to add by subtraction. So far, his path to improvement has been dumping the expensive core of last year's low-upside team. Tyson Chandler, J.R. Smith, Amare Stoudemire, and Raymond Felton are all gone. However, the biggest missing piece from last year's team has importance beyond cap space and 2nd round picks. It's been a whole year, but few have noticed that owner James Dolan is finally marginalized.
Phil Jackson's decisions to date have been prudent and future-minded. He has shed expensive contracts, and extended the one player (Carmelo Anthony) who, despite his flaws, is almost impossible to replace. The team is bad now, but Jackson is keeping his powder dry for better days.
Were James Dolan in charge, none of this would be happening. Rather than cutting losses, he would be doubling-down on mediocrity. This is the man who spent five years enabling Isiah Thomas.
Instead of managing the team, Dolan has time for other pursuits. Angry email exchanges with fans are a P.R. disaster, but they belie an owner with nothing better to do. Dolan's public reputation may be beyond salvage, but the team is not.
The more time J.D. spends Straight Shootin'
The less time he has for an encore of the Andrea Bargnani trade.
In this way, Phil Jackson's first year has been successful. As a coach he became the Zen Master for his ability to harness unmanageable egos. As a GM, he hasn't lost that touch. In 15 years, every serious basketball mind at Madison Square Garden has been undermined by ownership. Phil Jackson has flipped that dynamic, and so laid the groundwork for future success.
As we press forward into a brave new year, my first 2015 post will ground us in the best of what has come before.
November 9, 1997 was the original air date for Bart Star, an episode of The Simpsons detailing Homer and Bart's misadventures in youth football (with the help of guest star Joe Namath). A classic, but if nothing else, you remember the episode for this scene.
Back in the show's heyday, these thunderclaps of inspiration were common. Now, in a world where Sleepy Hollow gets picked up for a second season, we are left to cherish them like the last berries of a golden summer.
To pay tribute, I recreated Skittlebrau. For the beer, I chose Hofbrau Munchen for it's crisp grain-driven flavor. I was concerned that a hoppy or sugar heavy beer would clash with the industrial sweetness of the Skittles.
As it turns out, I had nothing to worry about. The flavor from the Skittles doesn't leach into the beer. The candy also sinks, rather than floats. However, it does cause the beer to foam dramatically. Before I dropped the Skittles, the beer's head was just below the rim of the glass. Compare that to the picture below.
Amusing, but the most compelling discovery was the chaser that came
from 'drinking' the Skittles at the bottom of the glass. For this
reason, Skittles are better added to harsh hard liquor (cheap vodka!). Skittle Shots can be a fun, and gender-neutral substitute for syrupy liqueurs or frilly cocktails.
