Neanderpundit

I’m not a drinker. I confine my drinking to sharing a fine white botyrized wine after dinner, or, occasionally, pulling on a bottle of port after a thick steak and an Indy race.

This caffeinated beer, on the other hand, brings back some memories.

When I was in high school we had an Italian prefect, Father Ernest. Father Ernest weighed around 120 lbs, wore only a shortsleeved shirt and dog collar even in the nastiest of weather, and could drink a gallon of beer, and NEVER use the bathroom.

Father ernest got along well with my parents, and spent a lot of time at our home. He’d often bring a special beer or wine with him, as his contribution to a meal- he still had family and friends in Italy (his family home) and they’d send him specific vintages he liked.

He came to America as a Salesian novitiate and learned to speak english in Louisiana. You could barely understand a thing he said.

When I was around 20, he stopped by the house one time to pick some mint- mom grew it beside the pump house. He came back almost a year later, and was carrying a bottle of something that was black as the inside of a cow.
Continue Reading »

I’m not a drinker. I confine my drinking to sharing a fine white botyrized wine after dinner, or, occasionally, pulling on a bottle of port after a thick steak and an Indy race.

This caffeinated beer, on the other hand, brings back some memories.

When I was in high school we had an Italian prefect, Father Ernest. Father Ernest weighed around 120 lbs, wore only a shortsleeved shirt and dog collar even in the nastiest of weather, and could drink a gallon of beer, and NEVER use the bathroom.

Father ernest got along well with my parents, and spent a lot of time at our home. He’d often bring a special beer or wine with him, as his contribution to a meal- he still had family and friends in Italy (his family home) and they’d send him specific vintages he liked.

He came to America as a Salesian novitiate and learned to speak english in Louisiana. You could barely understand a thing he said.

When I was around 20, he stopped by the house one time to pick some mint- mom grew it beside the pump house. He came back almost a year later, and was carrying a bottle of something that was black as the inside of a cow.
Continue Reading »