This entry was written by guest contributor TCD, one of the brains behind the DC Food Blog.
Last Saturday, my friend Writergirl and her high school friends were generous enough to let us see the long lost episodes of their homemade sitcom, “Makin’ It thru the Day”. Imagine a group of smart midwestern daughters of college professors and their little brothers deciding to do a parody of every cheesy family sitcom, produced complete with bad puns, slutty neighbor girls and an “everyone hugs” ending. And since I am totally addicted to so-bad-it’s-good television, I forced Writergirl and her friends to show us their parodies of afterschool specials, including Choices: One Girl’s Story (she’s keeping her baby) and Three Cheers for Murder.
When watching such a smorgasbord of hilarity and bad camera work, alcohol must be present and in abundance. In honor of our high school years, Writergirl was kind enough to make homemade version of Matchbox’s Chinatown – which tastes like an upmarket, adult version of the wine coolers I used to drink in high school…and college. Ah, the halcyon days of Bartle’s and Jaymes.
From Writergirl, The “Chinatown” is (all numbers totally approximate):
3 oz Watermelon vodka
1 oz triple sec
splash of sprite
splash of sour mix
tiny splash of cranberry juice for color

I have no shortage experience with bad drinks. Genny Light, Everclear, mixed drinks made with a splash of all six nearly-empty liqueurs left at on the table at 3 a.m., old milk – I went to college and I know what I’m talking about.
But Tupper’s Hop Pocket Ale is a step above the rest in terms of nastiness and could put up a respectable fight for the title of Worst Beer Ever. Produced by Old Dominion Brewing Company, a producer of a wide line of awful beers that take up valuable tap slots across the region, Tuppers’ is touted as “a rich harvest ale, deep gold & extravagantly hopped.” What does that mean? It means that in lieu of the careful brewing required to produce a quality tasty beer with character, the brew is so severely hopped that it washes out any other vector of flavor.
Like Michael’s spicy cole slaw at a recent Fourth of July BBQ, you’re initially fooled by the texture into thinking it’s going to be just like the other beers (or cole slaws) you’ve had – the cold and refreshing part comes through first. Then Tuppers’ grabs a hold of your tongue and palate, mashing its extreme hoppiness into your powerless flesh. It’s like rubbing a wet cloth covered in topsoil and white vinegar and around your mouth.
The Tuppers’ on my desk that I’m fighting through now in the name of online culinary journalism is a leftover from a party in which only four beers out of a six-pack got opened, all of which were tasted by the opener and then passed over to some unsuspecting fool who in turn took a sip, grimaced and started looking for another victim. At the end of the night, all of the other beer was long gone, but three of the four open Tuppers’ sat on tables, half-finished and cursed by nearly every attendee.
Consider yourself warned.

Apparently Starbucks thinks it’s Ben & Jerry’s. The coffee chain will be offering free ice cream at its many locations today. Though we’ll probably be assaulted by the thousands of readers (shut up; we can dream) who abhor Starbucks’ corporate empire, we consider providing you Free Food Alerts our mission.
We won’t patronize you and tell you where to find a Starbucks in DC – we’ll simply tell you to walk four blocks. Or take a hint from DCist and discover your Starbucks Density.

I love bubble tea. I know many who think it’s gross, but I love it; I love the oversweet tea, the strange tapioca balls, and the oversized straws you drink it all through.
You can imagine my delight (and my bank account’s horror) when walking to my office this morning I notice a brightly colored sign in the window of the once-great-but-now-mostly-mediocre Lawson’s Gourmet advertising their newest offering: Bubble Tea!!!!
So for my afternoon sugar break, I went down to Lawson’s and paid my whopping $3.85 (incl. tax). Their menu is confusing: it appears that they have many flavors of bubble tea (as you can get at a proper Chinese place), but they only have Black Tea. “Oh well,” I thought, my dreams of green tea flavored bubble tea returning to their dark corners in my mind, and ordered Black Tea flavor.
The tea itself was a bit too bitter – probably brewed too hot (as seems to be the custom in these parts) and too long (ditto) to boot – but the sweet milk with which it was mixed canceled most of that out. The tapioca pearls, which are what makes Bubble Tea so special, were good, if a bit mushy. I expect this will improve as Lawson’s staff gain a bit of experience handling them, and as long as they don’t go all the way to the other end and end up hard and awful like the miserable Teaism bubble tea, I’ll be happy. There was also a bit too much ice in my cup. More
flavors would be nice.
I’ll have another one tomorrow.
Lawson’s Gourmet
1350 Connecticut Ave, NW
Washington DC 20036

Wine is probably my favorite drink in the world, but it wasn

Most of the DCFÜD crew went out last night for an evening of medical emergencies, unbearable heat and violating open-container laws. It was like July… in April.

“Would you like some onions with your HUMAN LIVER?”

First, amg walked into Cap Lounge on the Hill with a bag full of vaccines that he had to keep cold lest they spoil. Treating it like a human organ, we politiely asked for a Hefeweizen (horray for being a yuppie) and a bowl of ice. Jokes about the need to get loaded before braving 395 traffic on the way to a hospital aside, we had a medical emergency. If the desire to drink counts as a medical emergency

The extremely accomodating (and extremely Irish) server Gerry at the Cap brought a bowl of ice and some napkins to keep amg and zaf’s anti-typhoid vaccines cool, and later even agreed to store the medicine in the bar’s refrigerator. This was a good thing, as the Cap Lounge was experiencing a climate-control malfunction which caused overwhelming heat to blast from the ceiling vents. It was like happy hour in a tandoori oven – not pleasant.

Several men who looked like they could speak authouritatively about things like ducts and vents came around to tinker with the thermostat, each announcing that the problem had been solved. It only got hotter. When we protested the furnace-like state, the bar manager offered free shots if we stuck it out until the thermometer registered 100 degrees.



As it turns out, the thermometer didn’t display more than two digits, but when it finally rolled over to “00”, the manager honored his promise and brought a round of whiskey, although not without hassling the three Wilson SHS graduates at the table (snh, wrc and ejg if you must know) about their D.C.P.S. high school.

I think the line was, “I’m from Ward 8, I know what I’m talking about.”

No free drinks	Free drinks

We eased on down the road to Zack’s, where pitchers of Miller Lite were consumed and some billiards were shot. Zack’s has a decent jukebox, with Stones, Hendrix, John Lee Hooker, Jimmy Cliff and various Motown classics perfect for drinking pisswater in the dark.

Our three exuberant ladies, filled with the energy of youth and many full mugs of cheap beer, decided that while Zack’s doesn’t have an outdoor patio, that should serve as no hinderance to taking a few beers outside and dancing in the rain on Pennsylvania Avenue.

Thirty seconds later, the bartender went to the door and asked them to kindly come back inside the bar, explaining how a liqour license is a good thing for a bar to have.

We went home, secure from typhoid and sobriety.

-Written by snh, edited and crossposted by DCSOB-er rj3

This is a good month for trying strange new drinks with questionable properties. The excellent Greek Deli on 19th Street carries Rockstar Energy Drink, which is exactly the type of beverage which must be purchased and consumed simply for the sake of blogging.
According to its its 16 oz. can, Rockstar is “enhanaced with the potent herb milk thistle” and is “scientifically formulated to speed the recovery time of those who lead active and exuasting lifestyles–from athletes to rock stars.” On the official Web site (note the clever URL), you can purchase official Rockstar merchandise, including a stylish trucker hat (my birthday is in July, in case anybody is wondering).
The president of the company is a gentleman named Russell Goldencloud Weiner. The drink smells and tastes like carbonated cough syrup. One hour after consumption, I don’t feel much like a rock star, but the rainbows are finally beginning to melt off the walls of my office, and now I feel an urge to go trash a hotel room.
This post fueled but not paid for by Rockstar Energy Drink.

This and other questions- like is it really possible for eyeballs to grow hair and why is my brain leaking out of my ears- are what I’m contemplating this Friday morning. Bloody hell.
The lovely lafb, having recently returned from Barcelona, was kind enough to get a respectable amount of Absinthe through customs in an empty plastic water bottle. There was only one thing to be done, so last night maw, rj3, zaf, snh, wrc, amg, and ejg got together to do our bright green duty.
The water technique- dripping water over sugar cubes placed on a fork or slotted spoon until they have melted into a single shot of Absinthe- was overturned in favor of the fire technique- a process that uses no water, a healthy dose of pyromania, and incidentally three shots of Absinthe. And cheap white wine as a chaser.
Instructions: Soak sugar cubes in Absinthe placed on spoon. Set on fire. Burn till sugar caramelizes. Stir. Add a healthy splash of water to give it a pretty milky color and change the taste from completely intolerable to moderately intolerable. Your lips will then go numb.

Results? Well, folks ended up rocking out to Thriller played on an old fashioned record player. amg and rj3 decided that it was a great idea to enthusiastically deep fat fry some Sylvia’s hush puppies. Break dancing was perpetrated. Other stuff probably happened.
Anyway, some of us made it to work this morning, others did not. Green Fairy, you are a cruel little girl.