A cheeky pint or several

I love beer. I guess no more needs to be said but this time things are a bit different. I have written about beer and beer events now and again except this is probably the first time I have attended one after the onset of my present medical condition. (Having seizures in public is rather embarrassing and can be costly without insurance.) Having taken Saturday off in preparation for the annual Philadelphia University Fashion Show, I strolled down to Main St. for a bit of lunch. Checking my mobile social media device, I learned that some friends were attending the Manayunk Brewery and Restaurant''s 14th Annual Brew Fest. Not having been to the establishment since New Years Eve, I figured 'why not?'
Thankfully, I could still  purchase tickets at the door. This worried me because usually an event like this is sold out days before. The weather could partially be to blame since it was overcast and slightly chilly most of the days (with an all too brief period of sunshine).
"I would have liked to have sold 150 to 200 more tickets," said owner Mike Rose. "But you what, there can be a brew fest every week nowadays. When we first started this event, this place was packed because we were the only ones doing something like this."
(Disclosure: I originally bought a 'designated driver's' ticket for $25. Although, I could have gone for free, courtesy of Mike Rose, I believe that it was right to pay because it was a last minute decision. Eventually, my friends broke down my resolve and I tasted a few of the brews despite a large 'X' written on my hand.)
The crowd filled the outside deck where many breweries were located but it was not too hard to navigate through the crowd. Ticket holders received a food voucher, gift certificate for a 32 or 64oz Growler (with purchase to fill said growler) and $10 off coupon (if you spent more than $30).
"It's a good enough crowd for people to get through the event and not be uncomfortable and when they go home they can say that they had a nice time," said Rose.
Guests had plenty to choose from such as the sweet, summery flavor of Lancaster Brewing Co.'s Strawberry Wheat to the ticklishly pleasant Good N' Evil Golden Ale from Evil Genius Brewing Co. and so much in between. Homebrewers were also a part of the event bringing up their interpretations of India Brown Ale, Kolsch and India Pale Ales. But despite proper planning, there was plenty of blink-or-you'll-miss-it offerings.
Sly Fox's famous Renard D'Or disappeared in TWO minutes.
With all that was offered, my friends were a little deflated because there were so few standouts. Many brewers brought their main menu items but nothing that seemed to excite my friends.
"If you are coming to a brew festival, even if you have stuff that we like at least bring one item to excite us," said my friend.

Photo: Bernard J. Scally

Bring the Bento

Last week proved to be interesting. After some more paperwork including a press pass application for the City of Philadelphia and other tax forms, I was out covering stories. This one about the Food Co-Op will hopefully prove to be something big, real big. I often feel cynical about certain initiatives but I really think that this one will be great for the neighbor and has some real momentum.
After that event, I went to Deke's BBQ. You may remember as The Garage, the place where I met the late, lamented Phillies sportscaster Harry Kalas. Tucked away next to the Ugly Moose, off of Shurs La., Deke's serves a filling BBQ menu and a killer Pecan Pie. By sheer luck, I met up with some journalistic colleagues there and had a great time, despite a "hockey" game going on around us.
Speaking of make-overs, I stepped into Dream House Asian Bistro today. New owners took over the old Jade Court last year and realized a overhaul and facelift were long overdue.
Jade Court served mediocre/standard Chinese Takeaway fare. I have only two distinct memories of the joint. Once, in my high school years, my friends and I trekked across a frozen Ridge Ave in a snow storm to satisfy our collect craving for MSG and carbohydrates. We got to the old parking lot on Lyceum Ave. and ate right out of the carton.
My second memory is not so pleasant. My co-worker and I ordered lunch from there once. Neither one of us could come into work the next day for symptoms I refuse to describe here. So I never ordered from there again, despite it being so close to the office.
But sometimes, you got to take the plunge and see if change is for the good.
Immediately, I noticed there was a difference when I ordered. I was informed that lunch was served as a Bento Box and I would receive entree, garden salad, two crab rangoon, 6-piece California Roll, cup of soup and steamed rice.That is what I got. Perfect portion size for the worker on the go and very filling. The Sesame Chicken was standard flavor but not drowning in sauce. The California Roll was also standard but enjoyable. I was a little concerned about mixing hot and cold foods but that is the nature of the box where you are ording as a take out.
A quick glance of the interior showed that the new owners really put the facade of the old Jade Court behind them. There is a whole sushi bar with chef in attendance. But only tomorrow will tell me if their cooking as truly improved...and if I will eat there again. IF all goes well, I'll be sitting in for Bento or Sushi soon.

UPDATE: I survived with any problems, we'll certainly be ordering from Dream House soon.

Photo: Bernard J. Scally

Viva Jazz!

Nothing is more depressing than an empty bar bar during open hours. Well, an empty one when there is a decent jazz band playing is probably worse.
I stumbled into the Dawson on thursday night and heard the Tal Shtuhl Trio performing. One advantage of an empty bar room, well, nearly empty, is that no one will sing with the band as two of six customers did that evening, One worried because she was wearing sweat pants. (Never knew there was a dress code for jazz.
The music made me wonder what places are left to enjoy a jazz ensemble. I admit I came to jazz pretty late (late teens/early 20s). A bartender at the steakhouse I was working at at the time loaned me a few albums. I still enjoy them today. Recently I was fortunate enough to witness Christian McBride, Lisa Henry and the 'Jazz Ambassadors' from the Thelonious Monk Institute perform for students at Shawmont Elementary. (Read that story here. Video is posted below.)
But with Philly's deep roots in Jazz music and culture, what is left, besides Chris' Jazz Cafe? With Ortlieb's gone, will and do bars like Dawson fill in the gap? In this era of electro-auto tuned, strip-pop and cover-bop, will anyone go to listen to good jazz anymore?

The end of an American Royal and strange parallels

It is often the brightest places that cast the darkest shadows...I have just read the Grand Jury Report on the Jerry Sandusky Scandal at my Alma Mater, The Pennsylvania State University,. I have not felt this perfect storm of violent emotion since the early days of my journalism career when I covered the Catholic Abuse Scandal more than six years ago. I am also struck by the parallels between the two events and how faintly I am involved or connected to them.
Much has already been said by the talking heads (No, not those Talking Heads, they haven’t been relevant since the 1980s.) Some of the observation as been scathing; some of it has been heartfelt. Now people have been asking me for my two cents about the issue. In fact, I spoke with a reporter at the Philadelphia Inquirer for a story coming out in the Sunday edition. ( I’ll add the link when it arrives.)

The question that the reporter asked was “did I feel ‘betrayed’” by the situation or anyone involved. The answer was “No.” The only way I would feel betrayed is if I were a victim that spoke up and found nothing being done. I would describe my feeling as ‘profound disappointment’. After reading the report, I would add ‘Righteous Indignation’. By page 6, I found myself wishing Sandusky tortured in ways that would make the Spanish Inquisition blush.

This is not my first time as a spectator at the sexual abuse scandal rodeo…perhaps a poor choice of words but you get the picture, if you don’t, read this report. In my short career, I’ve covered some tragic stories like this and some great heartwarming pieces like this. Despite my emotionally calloused exterior, child abuse/sex scandals never EVER get any easier and are the only reason I still support the death penalty.

As a young boy, I was taught to respect and listen to my elders. As I was educated in Catholic institutions, this included those in Holy Orders. It was also my elders (grandfather, uncles, cousins, father, etc.) who introduced me to College Football, specifically Penn State. Coach Joe Paterno was, like in many homes, a revered figure. I wouldn’t necessarily describe him, as others have, as a god per se. But I will admit that Paterno is the closest thing to royalty in America. Much like our parish priest was the embodiment of Christian behavior; JoePa was the physical embodiment of integrity, leadership, respect.

It was later on in life that I would discover that both are merely human. I survived a near-miss, almost being a part of the Catholic Abuse Scandal, after an incident that could be seen as an innocent gesture made me feel very uncomfortable. It was right before a Mass that I was serving; my friend and fellow altar server that day informed me of certain rumors concerning the priest celebrating the Mass that day. At first, I shrugged off the warning as ludicrous but this priest put me and my friend side by side, patting our faces; I saw something in his own facial expression that cause to decide never to serve the altar at Mass ever again. I would later find out this particular priest was named in the Philadelphia Grand Jury report.

I met JoePa once during my time at the Main Campus at Penn State. I was working at McClanahan’s. It was just after the end of Football Season but not quite the end of the school year. I saw Paterno enter in the side entrance, to the Penn State Room, of the building. I was busy cleaning arranging shelves. While I still respected and was a little in awe of the man, I had a job to do so I continued doing it. I noticed that when students saw JoePa they would hide from him but the locals would go up and chat with him. He would chat with them. (I wonder how they treat him now.) I realized then that he was just as much a ‘townie’ as they were. As I continued on with my work, Paterno walked up to me.
“Hey kid, where you hiding the papers,” he asked me.
“They are up front Mr. Paterno,” I replied, pointing the way out to him.
“Thanks,” he said and walked off. That was that.
(For the record, in addition to the New York Times, he purchased a half-gallon of V-8 juice. While in the checkout line he signed two autographs as well; one for the checkout girl, the other for the bag boy. He was quite gracious and didn’t seem annoyed by the request.)

What’s the point in my telling you these stories? Well, I feel the focus of this scandal has been shifted to the most likely scapegoat and not the actual guilty party as this piece points out.
Another who should be also in the spotlight (and also recently lost his job because of the Sandusky Scandal) has been rather absent of the discussion.

It took some time but I learned that former PSU President Graham Spanier is a schmuck. Like my earlier naivete about my parish priest, it was a friend (and later roommate) who warned me not to trust the Chief Executive of the University.
“Why do you hate Spanier so much?” I asked Ben Bullock as we walked to the gym for our daily workout session.
“He’s an idiot,” Ben replied.
“In what way,” I asked.
“Well, every year, he always says that he will reduce the influence of Greek Life on Campus Culture. Do you see any reduction of influence?” Ben replied.
As we walked past some fraternity houses and dorm rooms with sorority letters in the window, I came to realize that Ben was right. “And besides,” Ben continued. “Spanier’s own daughter is pledging to become a sorostitute.” (Sorostitute is, of course, being the derogatory term for Sorority members.)

In the final analysis, I hope Sandusky, Curley and Schultz go to prison for their part in this scandal and cover-up. Spanier’s dismissal is also a fitting punishment because as the head of the school, the buck ultimately stopped with him. How McQueary still has a job is beyond me. At 6’4” and 28 years of age, McQueary was more than a match for the older Sandusky, no matter how fit he was. This incident that he witnessed happened while I was still a student there. McQueary’s decision to run way will probably continue to haunt him. I don't care how much I respect someone; if I caught them diddling a child, asses will be kicked and police will be called that I guarantee.

But the question of everyone’s lips, “What About JoePa?”. I do not condone the student rioting (with or without the media’s help) that occurred this week; although I do understand it. I no longer wonder why he never named Sandusky as his successor. After reading the report, JoePa did nothing LEGALLY wrong. He’s morally culpable as all hell; Paterno publicly admitted that he ‘should have done more’ but should that make him a demon in the eyes of man? For some yes, for me, no. While I do not agree with his actions, if I were to see him in public, I’d still offer to buy him a drink or even shake his hand.

I agree with my former ethics professor, Russell Frank. Despite everything that is currently happening, I am still proud to be an alumnus of Penn State University. It was the faculty and my friends there, not the athletic department, which helped mold me into the gentleman that I am today. My former co-worker and fellow Alum, Joe Turkos agrees, “We should be proud of our school. As graduates, we need to advocate the purging of the university of those who allowed this to happen, while not forgetting the real victims.”

I’ve met abuse victims; they and their stories are not easy to forget.