I received a press release recently from the people representing famed New England chef Todd English, touting his new Las Vegas Venture, Todd English P.U.B., which apparently stands not for Public House, as it does over ‘ome, but Public Urban Bar.
Says said release: “One of the highlights at Todd English P.U.B. is more than 50 international bottle, keg and cask beers including rare finds such as Van Diest Fruli Strawberry, Rogue Chocolate Stout and Strongbow Cider.”
Uh, Todd, that’s all fine and dandy, but aren’t you the same chef who a while back was touting the virtues of Michelob? The guy suggesting that we pair it with a flaming dish of something or other, never mind whether the beer could stand up to the flavours or not? And now we’re to trust your attempts at some erstwhile gastropub-like thingy on the Strip?
Ah, but wait a minute, reading further I glean more:
“The fun begins at the top of the bar, equipped with signature Todd English hourglasses that encase only seven seconds of sand. Down a draught in seven seconds, and the pint is on the house. Guests can challenge their neighbors at the bar to the hourglass drinking game.
Todd English P.U.B. would not be complete without bar games including magnetic dartboards, and beer pong tables. The bar area is also adorned with several plasma TV screens, making Todd English P.U.B. ideal for big game viewing while patio dining.”
So P.U.B. is not about beer and food and the joys of combining the two after all. It’s about chugging beer and playing beer pong. Now I get it. As you were.
3 Replies to “Todd English’s Past Bites Him in the Ass”
I recall Mr. English, care of his early 90s TV show on PBS, being the one who taught me that the way to disassemble a blue Hubbard squarsh was to drop it on the floor. I grew a few and found I was in agreement. While seven seconds to drop a beer is a seventeen year old’s wet dream, the path to craft beer acceptance does go through beer pong – even if we don’t yet understand how.
I am not suggesting that you make nice nice but I do think that there is value in continuing to annoy him into better behaviour – though I accept he may be beyond redemption. I live in hope. After that, work on Wolfgang Puck. I had the crappiest cup of coffee at a hotel this weekend with his face on the wrapper. He looked so entranced. It made it that much more bitter. Wonder if he’s the only German (Ok, Austrian) never to have a weisse.
Oh, and Strongbow cider is shite.