Wordless Wednesday – Black & Tan

Mike's Black & TanOur friend, Mike, makes his own homemade beer, and his newest one this summer was actually two beers that when layered, created this marvelous drink.  We all call it a black and tan, and as you drink, the two beers stay layered all the way to the bottom.  Rich chocolatey beer on top, light, hoppy beer on the bottom.  Marvelous on a summer’s day.

Signing off

~Kate

It Was The Accent — Flash Fiction

The Scot lounged back in his chair, his glass of beer poised at his mouth.  “The ladies used to flock to me and I could never figure out why,” he mused modestly.

She arched a brow in his direction, surprised he had such an unfocused view of himself.

“You do know it was the accent,” she stated so casually, as if her words were an aside thought, that for a moment she thought he hadn’t heard her.  She had taken two sips of her drink before he finally answered.

“No, that can’t be what it was,” he said, a bit of a question lilting up the end of his statement.

“Trust me.  It was the accent.  Women go for the brogue,” then she laughed at her slight rhyme.

He laughed slightly, hesitantly, still disbelieving her.  He settled back into his chair a bit more, contemplating and wondering if she was right.  He’d have to think on it more, but she had a knowing look in her eye.

“What?” he asked.

“I like the brogue.  I could listen to you all day. Why else do you think I’m sitting here having a beer with you for no apparent reason?”

 

There is a man I know, a very, very charming Scotsman who was a part of our community for ages it seemed.  He has since left and been gone for three years.  Just last Friday he came back for a very short visit and I got to see him.  It was like he hadn’t been gone at all.  I once had a conversation with him about how all the girls at, I think Stanford, flocked to him and he wasn’t sure why. (he was in his lat 40′s to 50′s)  I looked at him and said ‘You do know it was the accent.’  I don’t think he believed me, but honestly, if you heard this man tell stories, joke and flirt with you, you would understand.  His accent is incredible and he uses it to his advantage.   Hearing him say ‘It’s good to see you, dearie’ is quite remarkable. And he did say that to me when I saw him last week along with giving me a very nice long hug then he spat out some random Gaelic saying how beautiful everything was. A feast for the ears.

He has now left our town, and I wonder if I will ever see him again.  Charming man.  Charming accent.  Trust me, it is definitely the accent.

Well, Doughan is kind of just charming himself.

Signing off

~Kate

The End of James Bond?

The six faces of 007

Ever since seeing Thunderball at the early age of 13, I have been in love with James Bond. While I am partial to only a few of the James’ over the years, they have been one of my indulgences and a secret fantasy.  Come on, what girl wouldn’t want to be swept off her feet by all that maleness?  And tell me, honestly, what guy doesn’t harbor a secret fantasy to be 007?

The martinis and Bond

Part of James’ appeal is his utterly cosmopolitan and urbane attitude and look.  The suit, the suave sex appeal, the car… the martini.  Yes, the martini.  The classic ‘shaken, not stirred’ martini.  In Casino Royale, it was the Vesper martini, named after the beauty, Vesper Lynd.  But it was still ‘shaken, not stirred.  James Bond is almost synonymous with the martini and the way it’s prepared.

Well, that’s all about to change.  In the newest   installment of the Suave Spy, Skyfall, James will turn in his martini for a beer.  Beer!  Heineken to be exact.  I’m sorry, but there is something completely and utterly wrong with this picture.

James doesn’t drink a beer.  Okay, maybe if he’s in Mexico, or one of the Caribbean islands…. and it’s the middle of the day, but really, other than that, beer is not his drink.  That’s like telling a coffee connoisseur to suddenly start drinking instant.  It doesn’t happen.

What’s next?  James will stop driving the Aston Martin for a NASCAR?  He will show up to work in a fishing vest?  He trades in the posh hotel for the lodge down the road?  Oh, I know, he’ll kick back and watch the game, beer in hand, and out front will be his tractor with the name “Gator” on the side?  Puleez.  Why don’t we just kill him off now? Save him the misery of a slow death by lack of class.

I’m sorry. I cannot and will not sign off on this.  I’ve had a hard enough time trying to like a blonde James that plays Texas Hold’em.  Heineken is the beginning of the end for 007, and a sad day for this Bond girl.

Signing off
~Kate