A Scene From Milwaukee


And there we were, Paul Keating and myself, in Wauwatosa, Wisconsin for “The Session,” a lovely little conference being held by the Ward Irish Music Archive.   It was Friday, dinnertime, and we’d strolled down to the village and we found ourselves in Chancer’s, a friendly little place that we were told served a wide assortment of good pub fare.  And you know what?  It did not disappoint.  My burger was outstanding.

But when I looked at the menu, I noticed it – their “Bacon Bloody Mary” – languidly staring up at me as if from the Davenport with the Deviled Egg of the Ocean around it’s neck, asking me to drink it like one of my French girls…with bacon.  Only bacon.  A Bloody Mary?  With bacon?  Garnished with deviled eggs?  It was a Bacchanalian challenge, sure – but could I resist?

I asked our server, if she’d ever had one.   She confessed she hadn’t, and further intimated that the Bacon Bloody Mary was kind of a pain in the ass to make.  It’s like she (rightly) didn’t want to make the bar’s job more difficult.  But I’ve never seen one in New York.   I mean, I like Bloody Marys.   And bacon.  And deviled eggs.  When in Wauwatosa, do as the Wauwatosans, right?  Did I dare?

I totally did.  And as I ordered, I did with the same naive imposition I feel when I order a Long Island Iced Tea.  And you know what?  It came with a beer chaser.  Behold:

I learned that the Bacon Bloody Mary is a deep ocean of secrets. But now you know there is such a drink and that I ordered it in every way that a drink can be ordered.  And I got a picture, and a memory I shall not soon forget.

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