I will leave you with one short wine story. I was a sophomore at UConn and the drinking age in Connecticut was 21. I grew up in NYC and the family would on occasion go to our local Italian restaurant and my dad would order a bottle of Chianti to go with our dinner. Even though the legal age was 18 no one cared that the father of the house gave his kids a small taste of wine with dinner. At this time my sister was 20 and also a student at a different Connecticut college. Our parents came up from NY to visit the two of us and took us to dinner. The bottle of Chianti came and my Dad was told under no circumstances could he give any to me
or my sister. The bottle was half full at the end of dinner and we were told that by law my Dad couldn’t take the bottle out of the restaurant. Connecticut law was different and enforced in ways foreign to us Brooklynites.
Thanks! When I began the LAGNIAPPE feature, I wrote: "In the Andes, customers have traditionally asked vendors for 'yapa' (from the Quechua for 'a little more'). Spanish sailors turned it into 'la ñapa,' and when they carried the expression to Louisiana, French-speakers made it 'la gniappe,' or, ultimately, 'lagniappe.' There, it came to mean a merchant’s little gift—a piece of chocolate to go with the wine you just bought. Or, more generally, a little unexpected something. Or, given the state’s infamous political culture, a bribe. In Bastiat’s Window, LAGNIAPPE will be some curiosity: a photo, a video, a quote, a poem, a brief story. Just a little something extra after the main story."
I think that you and I have a lot in common. I was an adjunct professor of law at UR quite a few years ago. Glenn Reynolds is a friend and is the one who recommended that I begin publishing on Substack. I previously had been a contributor to The Federalist. Still am occasionally. It also looks like we have lived in a number of the same places. I currently reside in Goochland County and at Wintergreen, with a daughter in Alexandria.
Greetings! I’ll give this a read. Thanks! UR as in University of Richmond? When? (I taught there 2001-2007.) I lived in Western Henrico—maybe four miles from the Goochland line. I lived in Charlottesville, not so far from Wintergreen. And, of course, I am in Alexandria. Drop me a note at rfg.counterpoint@gmail.com.
Fun stories, Robert, as always. And yet another curious intersection of our lives. I also do not drink much, but love single malt scotch; moreover, my favorite scotch is the Balvenie American Oak, with the Doublewood a close second. I have learned of late that the word "lagniappe" has various pronunciations. How do you say the word?
Never tried American Oak! Will give it a whirl. (I assume the name refers to the barrel wood?) I believe that in New Orleans, they pronounce lagniappe: LAN-yap, with “lan” rhyming with “plan” and “yap” rhyming with “nap.” Others pronounce it as LAH-nyop, with “lay” rhyming with “blah” and “nyop” rhyming with “mop.”
You inform and delight in equal measures... I am an aficionado of Irish whiskey and bourbon, having forsaken scotch (previously the third triad of my whiskey life) because it began to disagree with me - some heartburn issues. Thanks for another wonderful read...
Thanks! I aim to please. Irish is good. I do keep some Maker’s Mark around for an occasional sip. But I think of bourbon more as a condiment—great for marinades for chicken, beef, or ribs.
Ha – if Maker’s Mark was my bourbon, I would be inclined to agree with you. I’d offer some suggestions, but as a former devoted scotch drinker and thus familiar with the mindset, I suspect it would be a superfluous. 😉 Slainté.
Your stories about liquor laws in the South reminded me of experiencing Kansas liquor laws in the 1970’s.
Short background: I was born and raised in Lake County, IN, which borders Chicago and one of its collar counties. As a child I remember my mother buying wine in the grocery store. I later attended college in Illinois, where a huge bar was in walking distance of the campus. Needless to say, I spent oh, a few hours there with friends.
Then I started graduate school in Kansas in the late 1970’s, which was sort of a culture shock. There were no open bars. You could only purchase liquor by the drink in a private club. So bars and restaurants would issue “club cards,” which would reciprocate with other establishments. My then-boyfriend/now-husband bought a “club card” with an eye to which restaurants it would include as reciprocal.
Thankfully, the KS legislature repealed this nonsense. Today I live in Johnson County, KS, a suburb of Kansas City, MO. We can go to bars or restaurants and order drinks without the pesky “private club” restrictions. But there still is no wine in our grocery stores, although beer is available. If you want a bottle of wine or something harder, you have to buy it in a liquor store — which are closed on Sundays. Because it’s Kansas.
The ghost of Carrie Nation — who smashed a hotel bar with a hatchet in Wichita — still haunts the state. To the best of my knowledge, that hotel still stands in downtown Wichita, the ironic part being that it’s in the end of town where derelicts congregate.
I was going to mention that you were in the Land of Carrie Nation, but you beat me to it. :) I did go for drinks at the Kansas City, MO, hotel bar where Harry Truman used to hold court. Then, I hopped a cab and went to Kansas City, KS, for barbecue, down by some railroad tracks.
I appreciated the stories about your grandfathers working as bartenders upon coming to America. My great-grandfather's US naturalization papers list his occupation as "saloonkeeper" which always seemed to me to be a noble occupation for an Irishman. Also, as a North Carolinian, I remember voting in 1978 to allow liquor by the drink. Being able to order a cocktail in virtually any county in the state now seems normal but back then it was earth-shattering.
My NC adventure was just before that 1978 vote. I looked my maternal grandfather up in the Key West directory around 1910. I think he was listed as a barkeeper. But what struck me was that the page had a bunch of names whose profession was listed as “stripper.” I had to look into that and found that that was a specialized profession among Cuban cigar rollers. I think strippers removed the thick veins from the leaves before processing began. My grandfather did some business with the cigar industry.
I grew up in western Illinois, which had local choice liquor laws. Made for a real crazy quilt of restrictions. We had dry counties, cities/towns, and townships. We had Sunday sales/no Sunday sales in otherwise wet counties, cities/towns, townships. We had closings at midnight or 2 AM or later, and opening restricted to noon, 3 PM, whatever.
We had beer/wine licenses and hard liquor licenses. Rules for restaurants varied wildly.
In my little (pop. 350) town we were dry on Sunday, but just across the river a very Catholic county had Sunday sales, so we rode our motorcycles over there in good weather and would drink a beer or two in one little tavern, then ride 6-8 miles to another to drink a couple more.
In my home county, the county was dry on Sundays, except for the VFW in one of the 3 small (pop. about 2500 each) cities. That was weird, even for us, but no one wanted to cross the vets.
And you always found rural bars just across township lines in the least restrictive township.
Plus, I have a bottle of Old Pulteney in my cabinet now. When it is empty (I don't drink much any more), I'll buy another. I've been a fan for a long time.
I will leave you with one short wine story. I was a sophomore at UConn and the drinking age in Connecticut was 21. I grew up in NYC and the family would on occasion go to our local Italian restaurant and my dad would order a bottle of Chianti to go with our dinner. Even though the legal age was 18 no one cared that the father of the house gave his kids a small taste of wine with dinner. At this time my sister was 20 and also a student at a different Connecticut college. Our parents came up from NY to visit the two of us and took us to dinner. The bottle of Chianti came and my Dad was told under no circumstances could he give any to me
or my sister. The bottle was half full at the end of dinner and we were told that by law my Dad couldn’t take the bottle out of the restaurant. Connecticut law was different and enforced in ways foreign to us Brooklynites.
Nice addition to the stories!
The Lagniappe story is very funny. And being from the Gulf Coast, I love your use of that distinctive word.
Thanks! When I began the LAGNIAPPE feature, I wrote: "In the Andes, customers have traditionally asked vendors for 'yapa' (from the Quechua for 'a little more'). Spanish sailors turned it into 'la ñapa,' and when they carried the expression to Louisiana, French-speakers made it 'la gniappe,' or, ultimately, 'lagniappe.' There, it came to mean a merchant’s little gift—a piece of chocolate to go with the wine you just bought. Or, more generally, a little unexpected something. Or, given the state’s infamous political culture, a bribe. In Bastiat’s Window, LAGNIAPPE will be some curiosity: a photo, a video, a quote, a poem, a brief story. Just a little something extra after the main story."
Robert, you may be interested in one of my first Substack posts. https://johnalucas6.substack.com/p/political-lies-a-slaves-story-and
I think that you and I have a lot in common. I was an adjunct professor of law at UR quite a few years ago. Glenn Reynolds is a friend and is the one who recommended that I begin publishing on Substack. I previously had been a contributor to The Federalist. Still am occasionally. It also looks like we have lived in a number of the same places. I currently reside in Goochland County and at Wintergreen, with a daughter in Alexandria.
Let me know if you’re interested in connecting.
Greetings! I’ll give this a read. Thanks! UR as in University of Richmond? When? (I taught there 2001-2007.) I lived in Western Henrico—maybe four miles from the Goochland line. I lived in Charlottesville, not so far from Wintergreen. And, of course, I am in Alexandria. Drop me a note at rfg.counterpoint@gmail.com.
The journalist in me wonders if it is Kaithness or Caithness. My DNA results tell me that I have an ancestor from that part of Scotland.
Got me! Now corrected. Also, I added that it is in the town of Wick, which is in County Caithness. Thanks!
Re the "Coming Round the Mountain": I had a friend in Tennessee who would say, "You can't get drunk on Sunday in this county -- 'less you plan ahead."
Yep!
Fun stories, Robert, as always. And yet another curious intersection of our lives. I also do not drink much, but love single malt scotch; moreover, my favorite scotch is the Balvenie American Oak, with the Doublewood a close second. I have learned of late that the word "lagniappe" has various pronunciations. How do you say the word?
Never tried American Oak! Will give it a whirl. (I assume the name refers to the barrel wood?) I believe that in New Orleans, they pronounce lagniappe: LAN-yap, with “lan” rhyming with “plan” and “yap” rhyming with “nap.” Others pronounce it as LAH-nyop, with “lay” rhyming with “blah” and “nyop” rhyming with “mop.”
I'd guess it's the barrel wood. All I know is it is fabulous! It's bit pricey, but not too bad.
You inform and delight in equal measures... I am an aficionado of Irish whiskey and bourbon, having forsaken scotch (previously the third triad of my whiskey life) because it began to disagree with me - some heartburn issues. Thanks for another wonderful read...
Thanks! I aim to please. Irish is good. I do keep some Maker’s Mark around for an occasional sip. But I think of bourbon more as a condiment—great for marinades for chicken, beef, or ribs.
Ha – if Maker’s Mark was my bourbon, I would be inclined to agree with you. I’d offer some suggestions, but as a former devoted scotch drinker and thus familiar with the mindset, I suspect it would be a superfluous. 😉 Slainté.
Your stories about liquor laws in the South reminded me of experiencing Kansas liquor laws in the 1970’s.
Short background: I was born and raised in Lake County, IN, which borders Chicago and one of its collar counties. As a child I remember my mother buying wine in the grocery store. I later attended college in Illinois, where a huge bar was in walking distance of the campus. Needless to say, I spent oh, a few hours there with friends.
Then I started graduate school in Kansas in the late 1970’s, which was sort of a culture shock. There were no open bars. You could only purchase liquor by the drink in a private club. So bars and restaurants would issue “club cards,” which would reciprocate with other establishments. My then-boyfriend/now-husband bought a “club card” with an eye to which restaurants it would include as reciprocal.
Thankfully, the KS legislature repealed this nonsense. Today I live in Johnson County, KS, a suburb of Kansas City, MO. We can go to bars or restaurants and order drinks without the pesky “private club” restrictions. But there still is no wine in our grocery stores, although beer is available. If you want a bottle of wine or something harder, you have to buy it in a liquor store — which are closed on Sundays. Because it’s Kansas.
The ghost of Carrie Nation — who smashed a hotel bar with a hatchet in Wichita — still haunts the state. To the best of my knowledge, that hotel still stands in downtown Wichita, the ironic part being that it’s in the end of town where derelicts congregate.
I was going to mention that you were in the Land of Carrie Nation, but you beat me to it. :) I did go for drinks at the Kansas City, MO, hotel bar where Harry Truman used to hold court. Then, I hopped a cab and went to Kansas City, KS, for barbecue, down by some railroad tracks.
I appreciated the stories about your grandfathers working as bartenders upon coming to America. My great-grandfather's US naturalization papers list his occupation as "saloonkeeper" which always seemed to me to be a noble occupation for an Irishman. Also, as a North Carolinian, I remember voting in 1978 to allow liquor by the drink. Being able to order a cocktail in virtually any county in the state now seems normal but back then it was earth-shattering.
My NC adventure was just before that 1978 vote. I looked my maternal grandfather up in the Key West directory around 1910. I think he was listed as a barkeeper. But what struck me was that the page had a bunch of names whose profession was listed as “stripper.” I had to look into that and found that that was a specialized profession among Cuban cigar rollers. I think strippers removed the thick veins from the leaves before processing began. My grandfather did some business with the cigar industry.
Bob, I always enjoy your stories. These were no exception.
Your writing is incredibly enjoyable.
I grew up in western Illinois, which had local choice liquor laws. Made for a real crazy quilt of restrictions. We had dry counties, cities/towns, and townships. We had Sunday sales/no Sunday sales in otherwise wet counties, cities/towns, townships. We had closings at midnight or 2 AM or later, and opening restricted to noon, 3 PM, whatever.
We had beer/wine licenses and hard liquor licenses. Rules for restaurants varied wildly.
In my little (pop. 350) town we were dry on Sunday, but just across the river a very Catholic county had Sunday sales, so we rode our motorcycles over there in good weather and would drink a beer or two in one little tavern, then ride 6-8 miles to another to drink a couple more.
In my home county, the county was dry on Sundays, except for the VFW in one of the 3 small (pop. about 2500 each) cities. That was weird, even for us, but no one wanted to cross the vets.
And you always found rural bars just across township lines in the least restrictive township.
Plus, I have a bottle of Old Pulteney in my cabinet now. When it is empty (I don't drink much any more), I'll buy another. I've been a fan for a long time.