Beers, Brats, and Baseball – Tuesday, August 21

After watching the Brew Crew on Monday, we were the Brew Crew on Tuesday.  We started at the Blue’s Egg, a spiffy brunch place in downtown Milwaukee.  They had $2 cans of Dave’s Farm Boy, a beer brewed down the road.  “It’s five o’clock somewhere,” I said.  “But it’s 11 o’clock right here,” Justin said.  Nonetheless, we each ordered a beer.  When I was down to my last few sips, the server asked if I wanted another.  I said yes.  The server got the wrong the message and brought each of us a second round.  I didn’t want three beers before noon but I had no choice.  If Justin had a second beer, he would be useless until dinner time.  I took one—and then another—for the team: 

Beers (left to right): mine, mine.

The food was fantastic.  I had the mushroom omelet with a side of fresh fruit.  Justin devoured Eggs Benedict with a side of hash browns and chicken chorizo. 

Justin drove us to Packer Time, a veritable warehouse for (2011) World Champion Green Bay Packers merchandise.  They have Packer shirts, hoodies, and caps.  They have Packer loveseats.  They have Packer hunting gear.  They also have every form of cheesehead conceivable.  Cheeseheads to hang from your rear view mirror.  Cheeseheads you can wear on your head.  Cheeseheads your cheesehead can wear on its (cheese)head.  We purchased more Packer gear than we needed. 

Packer Time would be our last non-alcoholic stop of the day.  We went to Lakefront Brewery for a 2:30 tour.  Lakefront gives each tour participant four tokens, each of which could be redeemed for a six ounce pour.  Let’s do the math.  If Justin and I each received four tokens, and each token was worth one pour, how many pours did we get?  If you answered “eight,” you don’t know us very well.  The credited response is “twelve.”  My strategy was simple.  Every time you ask for a pour, you are supposed to drop a token in the basket.  I interpreted the basket as akin to “take a penny, leave a penny.”  I generally chose to take a penny.

We loved the people who work at Lakefront.  First we encountered Mike, stationed behind the bar.  Mike was sloshed.  This didn’t stop him from pouring a beer for himself as he poured one for us.  He tried to tell us what makes Lakefront special: “Lakefront is the only brewery in North America that makes its own brewery.  I mean, we’re the only beer that makes its own yeast.  Wait, the beer doesn’t make the yeast.  We do.  Let me try again.  We’re the only yeast that brews beer.  Shit.  Um…”  Justin tried to help him out: “You’re the only North American brewery that makes its own yeast?”  He nodded and smiled with relief.  “That’s not your first drink of the day, is it?” I asked, going out on a limb.  Justin asked the logical next question, “So where do other breweries get their yeast?”  Mike stumbled, mumbled, stammered, and stuttered.  Another Lakefront guy, Josh, came out of the bullpen to save Mike.  Josh gave a coherent, in-depth explanation of yeast that included chemistry, history, and politics.  Mike kept grinning.  Justin and I looked back and forth between Mike and Josh. “I feel like they chose to work here for different reasons,” Justin said.

Justin toasting with Mike

Evan enjoying Josh's performance

The tour was outstanding. Our tour guides were funny and they made sure we always had a beer in hand.  Evan, making his tour debut, led the group, while Josh issued corrections for anything Evan omitted or misstated.  I was randomly selected as Evan’s drinking buddy.  Anytime Evan made a mistake, Josh made a buzzer noise, which meant Evan and I both needed to take a drink.  Evan made a lot of mistakes. 

  

Lakefront gave everyone a coupon for a free beer at select bars, one of which was the “Brat House,” which we were also told was home to the best bratwurst in the city.  I made Justin’s day by suggesting we get bratwurst before the game.  At the Brat House, two cute female bartenders worked the counter while a chalkboard behind them said, “Bartenders on duty: Michelle and Mike.”  I asked which one of them was Mike.  They didn't think it was as funny as Justin did, although at this point in time Justin thought everything was funny.  It turns out our coupon for two free beers was somehow a coupon for four free beers.  We ordered a sausage platter, which came with three different links, peppers, onions, sauerkraut, mushrooms, and a pretzel roll.  I liked the original bratwurst best; Justin preferred the Italian.

Free beer.  We liked Milwaukee

Bratwurst platter.  We liked Milwaukee

Our final pre-game stop was Kelly’s Bleachers, a bar near the stadium.  Justin and I split a pitcher while playing some pool.  [Justin’s Note: We didn’t exactly “split” the pitcher.  My tolerance is similar to that of a typical 12-year-old gymnast, and by five o’clock on this day I’d already consumed my weekly allowance of beer.  So whenever Ari faced the pool table and had his back to the pitcher, I would pour half of my beer back into the pitcher.  I had no more than 20 percent of the pitcher.  I am not sure how he failed to notice that the beer level was frequently rising.]  I smoked Justin in both games of pool, avenging my silver medal performance from the Bar Olympics.

When we walked up to the counter at Kelly's, the bartender asked what we wanted to drink.  Justin pointed to this guy and said, "I'll have what he's having."

At 6:30, Johnathan Woodward and his girlfriend Amber Noltemeyer picked us up for the game.  Amber works at a local radio station.  She once donned the Polish costume and competed in the Brewer sausage race!  Johnathan is a lawyer but moonlights at the radio station—that’s where they met.  Justin knows Johnathan from mock trial, where I’m guessing people make awkward “Woodward and Bernstein” jokes.  [Justin’s Note: They’re not awkward.  They’re clever.]

  

The Brewers won the game and Hot Dog won the race.  “He's been having a great year,” Johnathan said.  We got the race on video.  Our favorite part is the announcer's line at the end.  

  

The final tally for Milwaukee: 2 games, 10 sausages, 21 beers, and 1 trip to Sobelman’s.