The Drink Of The Weekend: Whatever You Can Find

As part of our mission here at Why Daddy Drinks to revel in the humorous lunacy that is fatherhood, and to promote the drinking of quality beverages, we bring you our weekly segment highlighting something that should be in your glass. This is The Drink Of The Weekend.

I’m a little late with this post, and not because I was hungover and couldn’t manage to put my typing thumbs up to my iPad.

No, it’s because this past weekend was so balls-to-the-wall busy that I had no time to write anything that wouldn’t have come out looking like I had composed a ransom note. With my foot, at that.

From the moment my daughters Maddo and Little Sis rousted me at 5:15 a.m. Saturday I was burning up a non-stop path [and burning up half a tank of gas in my beast of a truck, aka “The Beast”] going back and forth from my house to Home Depot to load up on all kinds of lumber for this fence-and-yard project that my wife has had our occasional handyman occasionally working on for the last couple of months. We need our handyman to do this because putting in a new fence that runs up the side of a hill is something way above my Man Club Pay Grade. Oh, I could do it, for sure. The fence would have more twists and turns in it than the 10-story monstrosity that is the Kong rollercoaster at Six Flags Discovery Kingdom, but it would be done. And then my wife, The Thoroughly Awesome Ms. Crums, would be so mad at me that I would have to sleep on the living room floor for the next five years. And we would still be out a few thousand bucks.

So, instead, I provided the transportation. And our handyman and a buddy of his provided the labor to the tune of $15 an hour.

Because I had to keep getting behind the wheel of The Beast, I had to do my drinking in fits and starts this weekend. And as much as I wanted, I couldn’t just sit down and stick with one main drink between Friday and Sunday nights. Maybe it was the schizophrenic nature of the weekend in general, but I found myself jumping from one thing to another, squeezing in a beverage when I could without any consistency to my selections.

Which is why the Drink Of The Weekend was really all over the place.

[All alcohol-related sites below require age-verification.]hoptimum-nodate

On Friday, I ended the evening with a Sierra Nevada Hoptimum Imperial India Pale Ale. I came by this from a recommendation from my brother, who might be the only person likes good beer more than I do. It’s also one of those “specialty craft” beers that tries to boost its cachet by coming in a four-pack of bottles that costs $10, or more. Then again, Hoptimum also comes with a whopping ABV of 10.4%. In other words, drinking one of these is equal to about two and a half shitty Bud Lights. This is not a beer for getting on a speedboat and BRO-ing it up with your BROS. Chill it, and drink one while watching a Clint Eastwood movie and you enjoy the hoppiness as you feel your head turn into a hop cone like the one on the beer’s label.

IPLI love a good IPA, and I pretty much like anything from Sam Adams. So I was immediately taken with something I recently found at my local Safeway: Sam Adams Double Agent IPL. That’s India Pale Lager. As Sam puts it on his website, this beer is “Full of the bold grapefruit & piney character of an American IPA, this brew also reveals its smooth lager side creating a balanced, flavorful brew.” It’s an interesting concoction, and at just 5% ABV, a few of them are perfect for hanging out on the deck and grilling up some steaks while your daughters brawl inside over the iPad.

I also drank a Red Hook Audible Ale, another new brew I AUDIBLE-12OZ-LARGErecently found. I’m a total homer for anything from my hometown of Seattle or the Northwest, and I usually have good luck with our Red Hook choices. This was a standard, typical ale. Nothing spectacular, but nothing to make you want to hurl the bottle off you deck in anger. Unless you count that Red Hook touts it “teamed up with Dan Patrick” to make this. I have no idea what Dan would have done besides hammer a check for letting Red Hook put his name on the bottle. The ABV is 4.7%.

Finally, as I was making a pot roast on what was, to this point, the hottest day of the year [don’t ask why], I hit upon the idea of making something more grown up. The band Fountains Of Wayne has a song called “Bright Future In Sales” in which the booze-addled hero is at an airport bar and decides to “Try to kill an hour/With a Whiskey Sour…” So, I decided I should do the same.

First problem…I didn’t know how to make a Whiskey Sour. Easy enough solution: I went to, looked up how to make one, and found this helpful video here. But the desire for a Whiskey Sour also presented me with Problem No. 2: No blended whiskey.

I have a pretty good liquor cabinet, but I admit that I am missing a few things. I have bourbon [Maker’s Mark], Irish whiskey [Two kinds of Bushmills. I like to be ready for Irish Coffee season] and a bottle of 12-year old Macallan single malt. I also have a bottle of Johnny Walker Red Scotch.

If you’ve watched the video, you know that the bartender there uses a “blended” whiskey, which in her case is Jack Daniel’s. I associate Jack with the same gang that likes Screwdrivers and parties in parking lots outside of Judas Priest concerts in the 80s, which I mentioned in column a couple of weeks ago. The only blended whiskey of any kind I had was the Red, which as we know, is Scotch.

Whiskey SourSo I mixed the thing up following the video bartender’s instructions, which were as follows:

In a shaker add ice, squeeze the juice from half a lemon, mix in a half teaspoon of powdered sugar and add two ounces of blended whiskey. Shake it all up, strain into a lowball glass and add a cherry and half lemon slice for garnish. I did mine on the rocks.

It wasn’t bad, but…technically, I had made a Scotch Sour. Oh well, all the more reason, I guess, to finally add that bottle of Jack to my booze collection.

Drink up!


  1. I feel I’m doing the right thing by responding to this while having a Smithwick’s in an Irish bar in Boston. And a Guinness.
    I’ll get a whiskey sour next, although the bartender looks like pulling beer might be his limit.


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