The banning of the song Danny Boy at the Foley’s Pub and Restaurant in Manhattan for the entire month of March got me in the mood to hear the song whether it’s over done or not. Here’s a version by Declan Galbraith, a young vocal wonder in Great Britain. In this YouTube video, he’s 10 years-old. One comment on the YouTube post said that Danny Boy is supposed to be sung by a woman, but Declan belts it out anyway. This guy has a following.
The art of pouring a perfect pint of Guinness
Did you know that it takes 5 minutes to pour a pint of Guinness? That is, it does if you’re pouring it correctly.
The first time I went to Ireland, I stepped up to the bar, ordered my Guinness, and when the bartender poured it and set it on the counter, I walked away with it. Back at my table, I noticed the glass was only three-quarters full (and no, that’s not a metaphor for my overwhelming optimism). I took it back and asked her to top it off; she informed me that it has to settle for a few minutes before it gets topped off. Ashamed at my ignorance, I waited and my patience was rewarded with a thick, rich pint that had a perfect creamy head. A year and a half later I was back in the country on the other side of the bar, and I eventually learned the art of pouring a perfect pint. Here’s how:
- Start with a tulip-shaped pint glass that’s clean and dry. Tilt the glass to a 45-degree angle under the tap and pour until the glass is three-quarters full.
- Let sit for several minutes to let it settle. The beer should be black and flat.
- After it’s settled, fill the glass the rest of the way. No need to tilt the glass anymore; you want to create the signature foamy head on top. It’s okay if some foam spills over the side — that means you’ve got it full enough!
- Enjoy.
In case you need to see it to believe it, check out this YouTube video on the next page:
Genitalia restaurant in China
If you think that eating water-buffalo penis, a yaks knob with a hunk of foreskin, a dog’s penis, bull’s penis tip, bull’s perineum, or deer-penis juice is gross (excuse me one minute while I go to throw up), think again. Apparently they’re delicious delicacies, with energetic and virility benefits that rich Chinese people (mainly male members of the Communist Party) pay up to £250 for.
Guo-li-Zuang restaurant in Beijing specializes in serving such dishes of animal penises and testicles. China has a history of poverty and famine, which is why they are used to eating any animal and every morsel of it, so eating penises and testicles is nothing out of the ordinary. The stuff is mainly boiled, roasted or steamed, and served with a variety of items like lemon, soy, chili, honey and sesame-seed paste.
According to the author of the article on this restaurant: “All the knobs have intriguing, delicate and bizarre textures, although the flavor is mainly of pork braised in hot stock.” The restaurant is sexist though as it doesn’t serve female genitalia — but oh what the heck.
Now that I think about it a bit more, it doesn’t seem all that gross. They are really just body parts like anything else. I would have to say though, I’d probably enjoy it more if I didn’t know what I was eating.
Danny Boy marathon aims to break Guinness Book of World Records
There are high hopes in Ferndale, Michigan. Opposite to Shaun Clancy of Foley’s Pub and Restaurant in Manhattan who is loathe to hear “Danny Boy” in March, A.J. O’Neil, owner of A.J. Café, has been hustling to get enough folks together to break the Guinness Book of World Records in a “Danny Boy” singing/playing the song marathon for a St. Patrick Day first.
Here’s how it will work. Starting at 3 p.m. today, various musicians will take turns belting out the lyrics or playing the tune “Danny Boy.” The goal is to have the singing and playing go non-stop for 50 hours. The end point is March 17 at about 5 p.m. [see article] The marathon is also a fundraiser. Gleaners Community Food Bank, Ferndale Youth Assistance, St. Patrick Senior Center in Detroit and Detroit Together Men’s Chorus will benefit from the proceeds. Ah, creativity at its finest.
A few days ago, 600 people had signed up to participate but a few hundred more were needed. Folks can rap, sing, play an instrument, whistle, hum, whatever it takes to keep the song going over and over and over again.
I hope Mr. O’Neil still likes “Danny Boy” once this marathon is over. I’m sure he’ll know the words. Let’s hope he has the luck of the Irish and gets the record for his efforts.
Bring on the bubbly: France plans to expand Champagne region
It’s easy to become a wine snob if you’ve ever lived in France. The thing that irks me the most is calling all various kinds of sparkling wine “champagne.” In France, only bottles that are produced in the Champagne region can be graced with the term that has become synonymous with luxury; anything else is just plain old vin pétillant, or sparkling wine.
But in a global society, even a stubborn Frenchman can only stick to his traditions for so long. Last year exports of French champagne bottles hit a record 150.9 million bottles and the growing global demand for champagne is forcing France to expand the region to include another 40 villages; just so the country can produce more bottles classified under the same name.
Wine experts from the Institut national de l’origine et de la qualité (INAO) have been debating on expanding the boundaries of the region for quite some time now. On Thursday a meeting was set to decide which villages should be included in the region, but a final decision — which will need to be made at the national level — will not be reached until 2009.
If I owned a vineyard, I would certainly be crossing my fingers. “If your vines fall on the wrong side of the divide, they will be worth 5,000 euros ($7,800; £3,800) a hectare,” said Gilles Flutet of the INAO, as quoted by the BBC. “On the other side they will be worth 1 million euros.”
It may seem strange to have to expand the physical region instead of just placing a champagne label on other bottles of sparkling wine from around the country, but then again, c’est la France and wine is much more than a drink; it’s a way of life.