This Dude Sounds Kind of Awesome

I don’t do a lot of food and drink stuff on here, but I do like to share when I find interesting people. And this guy sounds pretty interesting. He is known simply as Lêe, and he’s opening a bar on 10th and Race soon called the Hop Sing Laundromat (named after a characer on Bonanza). The whole thing seems to be shrouded in mystery. It was supposed to open like a year ago, and it still doesn’t have an opening date. There are thousands of pennies on the floor, and thousands of nickels on the bar, there will be complimentary shoe shines at the door, and there will be over 1,000 types if liquor available. Here are a few choice lines from an interview Lêe recently did with Philly Eater.

…we’ve moved the bar from one side of the room to the other in the middle of the night because we thought the employees should have a better view of the room…If Hop Sing Laundromat lives up to the expectation of our guests and the media, then it is just pure luck. And, if this whole thing goes south, then I and I alone will be the biggest idiot in town for trying, and rightly so…My biggest fear, actually, is dying before I get to open Hop Sing Laundromat. Honestly…Your time spent here should remain private and not end up on a website. There are no recording devices of any kind allowed in the main room, and that includes cellphone cameras…To point your phone camera at someone not in their best light is demeaning at best. Privacy is a privilege and not a right in 2012, which is really strange. I believe in those values. I understand there are people who need to be updated instantly on what’s going on in their world at all times, but they won’t be doing it at Hop Sing Laundromat..What I’ve learned on my research trip, driving 33,000 miles in 70 days through 48 states, is that every cocktail bar thinks their version of a classic cocktail is the best version ever made. They all stock their establishments with a limited selection of spirits to make their own versions of these cocktails. That’s a mistake. Our guest’s version of any cocktail is and always will be the best version of them all. The perfect drink.

Would Richard Jewell Have Been Tortured Under NDAA?

On July 27th, 1996, one person was killed and 114 were injured when a terrorist set off a bomb at Centennial Olympic Park in Atlanta during the 1996 Olympics. The disaster would have been much worse if not for one American hero. A security guard named Richard Jewell saw the suspicious bag, contacted the police, and moved people away from the area. His quick thinking doubtless saved many lives. And thanks to the utter incompetence of the American media and FBI, his heroic actions made him a villain. The FBI made him a prime suspect, and the piranhas in the national media instantly attacked, assuming that Richard Jewell was guilty until proven innocent. Fortunately, Richard Jewell had the right to an attorney. Fortunately, the FBI was forced by law to do a more comprehensive study. After a few months, it was obvious that Richard Jewell was a hero, not a criminal. He was exonerated by the FBI, though not by the nation. His rightful place as an American hero was denied, but he was found innocent of the false charges against him.* 9 years later, the actual bomber, Eric Rudolph, would be found.

If such a thing happens again, people like Richard Jewell would be best served to not tell anyone about a suspicious package. Because if they are seen as a suspect, the incompetence of CNN will be the least of their worries. If someone sees a suspicious package and tells the police, and if the FBI thinks that makes them a suspect, there will be no reason to investigate further. There will be no trial, nor will there need to be. Thanks to President Obama signing the most horrific law of his Presidency, the next Richard Jewell won’t be scapegoated to save the Olympics, then exonerated a few months later. The next Richard Jewell will be stripped of his American citizenship, then shipped off to Guantanamo Bay, where he will either be held indefinitely with none of the rights he was born with under the Constitution, or be tortured until he tells his torturers what they want to hear.

So despite the Sixth Amendment’s guarantee of a right to trial, the Senate bill would let the government lock up any citizen it swears is a terrorist, without the burden of proving its case to an independent judge, and for the lifespan of an amorphous war that conceivably will never end.

President Obama has, with one stroke of his pen, made the concepts of “guilty” and “innocent” archaic. Now, there is only “dangerous” and “non-dangerous” and you better get in line on the right side. Bush famously said, “You’re either with us or against us in the war on terror.” He was speaking to nations. Obama has just said the same thing, except he was speaking to every American citizen. Of course, it doesn’t matter if you are “with us” or “against us”, it only matters if the government thinks you are against them. It is almost as if Obama is honoring Kim Jong-il by enacting a law that you would think would only be allowed in a totalitarian state.

As we saw with Richard Jewell, in determining the right from wrong, the black from the white, mistakes are sometimes made. It no longer matters. Those mistakes will simply disappear into the black hole of secret prisons, never to be heard from again. The next American hero who is the wrong place at the wrong time will simply disappear. The flight from Atlanta to Guantanamo is a short one. George Orwell was off by 28 years.

*Perhaps it makes me a conspiracist, but I’ve always thought that the FBI knew all along that Jewell was innocent, but wanted people to think they had the bomber in custody so they’d feel safe at the Olympics, by far the most corporate-laden Olympics in history. There was far too much money on the line for the stands to be empty.

My Ultimate Philly Cocktail party

I somehow made the list for the Ultimate Philly Cocktail party (which isn’t actually happening, unfortunately) put together by Philly Mag. Needless to say I was flattered to be included. Now, if this party were to actually happen, I would probably spend most of my time hanging out with Michael Solomonov and Gonzo, hoping that Gonzo would introduce me to Victorino, who I would then try to impress by speaking pidgin in the hopes that he would find out that I used to live in Hawaii and then we would be great friends and then us and our wives would always go out on double dates and talk baseball. (Yeah, so my man crush is on Shane. So what? Yours is on Chase.) I would also make an awkward attempt to patch up my differences with ?uestlove (strange but true fact: because of something I wrote a few years ago, he won’t let me follow him on twitter) who probably won’t remember who I am, making for an awkward apology since he won’t have any idea what I’m apologizing for.

Alright, well I respect their list, but now it’s time for my own. I have purposely excluded anybody I actually know fairly well. I am lucky enough to know a lot of people through quizzo who have actually been incredible cocktail and garden party guests, but here are 10 people I’ve either never met or barely know who I think would be fun to talk to at a cocktail party:

Inga Saffron– Just for her spot-on destruction of the Pepto Bismol building on Broad Street, I’d love to talk to her about her favorite and least favorite buildings in Philadelphia.

Meek MillsWould love to talk to him about how his experiences. Coming from such dire circumstances into fame and money, would love to know his outlook on life.

Jimmy Rollins– J-Roll and Shane are my favorite players, and following Jimmy on twitter makes him seem even cooler. Would love to knock a few back with him and talk baseball.

DJ Jazzy Jeff. When I worked in Hawaii, I had a chance to meet numerous famous people. In Philly, I’ve had a chance to meet some almost sort-of famous people. It’s been my experience that the sort-of famous people are a lot more interesting. I think Jazzy Jeff would be a bit more fun to hang out with than Will Smith.

Howard Eskin. The Ric Flair of local sports radio, I’d love to talk sports with Howard. I know a lot of people hate him, and I love how bad Charlie showed him up in that press conference, but he’s damn interesting and smarter than 99% of the guys on sports radio today.

Buzz Bissinger. I’ve hung out with Buzz a couple of times and even did an interview with him. A fascinating dude, a brilliant writer, and certainly a “wild card” at a cocktail party.

Nicole Cashman. What, I can’ try to network at this thing? It’s my party, remember?!

Eve– My wife would not be happy with this pick, seeing as how Eve and I have a history (and by history, I mean I’ve had a crush on her for years and she has no idea who I am). But I’m winning this argument (for once). Eve is on the list!

Neil Stein. No knock on Garces, Vetri, Solomonov, et al. I love all their places. But I feel like Stein just gets a cold shoulder since his fall from grace, and not nearly as much respect as he deserves. Without this dude, you’re not eating at any number of the hippest restaurants in town, because there are no hip restaurants in town. You’re in the suburbs, complaining about how awful Center City is. Neil could easily paraphrase Dr. Dre, “I’m the one who started this foodie shit, and this the motha f***in’ thanks I get?” I’d love to talk to Neil about Philly in the 90s. In fact, I think I just gave myself a story idea.

Phoebe Esmon. Renowned mixologist at Farmer’s Cabinet (and formerly of Chick’s) makes some of the best and most interesting drinks in town. Who better to invite to a cocktail party?

So who else should I add to the guest list?


Charles Darrow: Mount Airy’s Millionaire Monopoly Thief?

We had a question this week about the board game Monopoly. As I often do, while researching the question, I got sucked into reading more about the history of the game. It’s incredibly fascinating, and it’s got Philly all over it, so I thought you might dig it too. (If you’re a fan of local history, check out quizzo regular GroJlart over at Philaphilia or check us out at

The Great Depression hit Germantown (now Mt. Airy) resident Charles Darrow hard. He lost his job as a domestic heater salesman, and with a bunch of free time on his hands, started tinkering around on a piece of oilcloth with a new game that was formulating in his mind. He tinkered with rules, made little houses and hotels, and invited friends over to try his new game. They were enthralled. With little money of their own during the Great Depression, the idea of playing a game that gave them money and power was an instant hit. Darrow saw that he had created something special, and started selling the game out of his house. Orders came pouring in, so he went to Parker Brothers to see if they could manufacture it for him. They weren’t interested, so he sold it to Wannamaker’s himself. The game flew off the shelves in Philadelphia that holiday season. Parker Brothers reconsidered, bought the game from Darrow, and paid him royalties that within a year had made him a millionaire. See, a little elbow grease and originality, and the American Dream can come true for anyone!

At least that’s the official story that Parker Brothers told for 40 years after the game was invented. And parts of it are true. But like most stories, it was a hell of a lot more complicated than the “official” version. Darrow positively did not create the game. He was just the guy who hustled it and made the money off of it. The woman who invented it, Lizzie Magie, is like the dude who invented chicken nuggets according to DeAngelo in the Wire. A quick history of the game after the jump, according to

Continue reading “Charles Darrow: Mount Airy’s Millionaire Monopoly Thief?”

A Few Thoughts on the Death of Joey Vento

Quite a few years ago, I went down to Mexico to do some work at a dolphin facility. The vast majority of the employees were Mexican, and it was probably pretty obvious to them that I was getting paid quite a bit more during my few weeks there than they were. I worked hard and I tried to earn their respect, though they had every right to begrudge me.

A few nights after arriving, I went out for drinks with a few guys on the staff. We went to a small beer stand that had all of its seats outside. The guys I worked with ordered the first round of beers and we sat around and chatted. At one point I went up to grab a couple of brews. When I came back, one of the Mexican guys I was working with who spoke fluent English (and didn’t demand that I speak fluent Spanish) asked, “How much did you get charged for those?” I told him $2.50 each. A more than reasonable price, I thought. He was apoplectic. He stormed toward the counter, screaming in Spanish. It turned out that the bartender had charged everyone else $1.50, but had charged me a buck more. He went up one side of the bartender and down the other, then came back to the table and said, “Come on, let’s get out of here. Nobody is going to treat a friend of mine like that.”

I still get goosebumps when I think about that. A guy I had only known for a few days had seen me as more than just some gringo coming in to make some money. He had stuck up for me when I got treated like shit by a bartender for the crime of not being from that country, and for not speaking that language. My friend didn’t see me as an American coming in to make money for a month and then blow out of town. He simply saw me as another human being, a fellow man who was deserving of respect.

And that’s perhaps why I personally found Joey Vento so infuriating. He took the complete opposite approach from my friend. He saw people working their asses off to make less money than he and his friends, but showed no respect for them. He saw them not as fellow humans worthy of his respect, he saw them as “invaders” who were “murdering like 25 of us a day…molesting like 8 of our kids a day.” He took the debate from a reasonable one about how to deal with illegal immigration and turned it into a race war, bashing Mexican “anchor babies” and “drug dealers”every step of the way. Furthermore, he ripped the immigrants inability to speak English, calling them “morons” .

All of this without a hint of irony, despite the fact that his own English was highly suspect. And though he admitted that his first-generation grandparents never mastered the English language, he simply couldn’t understand why current first-generation Mexicans failed to do so, and mocked them for it. His supreme lack of irony would have been amusing had it not been so spiteful.

At the time Joey Vento opened Geno’s Steaks,  his father was in jail for committing murder, while his brother was imprisoned for drug dealing. Undoubtedly, there were many Americans who at the time would have held the Vento family up as an example as to why America needed to stop admitting so many Italians into this country, and why Joey Vento didn’t deserve a chance to start his own business. (Make no mistake, there was until recently ample anti-Italian sentiment in this country.)

But anyone who did so was wrong. Joey Vento was his own man. He was not his brother, he was not his father. He was an individual, a human being. And because this is America, he got a chance. By working his ass off, he made the most of it. He turned a $2000 investment into the most famous cheesesteak restaurant on earth. He was the very embodiment of the American dream.

He walked and talked with a swagger, and he had every right to. In business, he became what every American who has started a business with little more than the change in his pocket and a dream in his head wanted to become. He had built more than a success, he had built an institution, and he had done it all through his own blood, sweat, and tears.

But when immigrants came to his neighborhood, some legally and some illegally, most with the same dreams that Joey’s grandparents had…not coming with the hopes of striking it rich, but coming with the hopes that perhaps their grandchildren would have an opportunity to have a better life than they had…he treated them the way his grandparents had been treated by so many small minded Americans 100 years ago. He had risen from humble beginnings into a position of power, and then used that power to oppress people because they spoke a different language, came from a different culture, and were a slightly different shade than his ancestors.

In his view, they (his most commonly used phrase in every speech I’ve heard him make was “those people”) were not people trying to make things better for future generations that they might not even live to know, like Joey’s family had. “Those people” were “criminals” and “child molestors” and “drug dealers” and “murderers”. His appreciative audiences roared, and he was feted as a patriot by 1210 AM and FoxNews.

It was Thomas Jefferson’s dear Italian friend Philip Mazzei who wrote to Jefferson in the early 1770s that it was his belief that “All men are created equal.” Because Thomas Jefferson co-opted the phrase (Mazzei originally wrote it in Italian, but instead of insisting that he “Speak English”, Jefferson decided to translate it from the Italian) and used it in the greatest document ever written, Joey Vento got a chance in this great nation to make his dreams come true. He made the most of that opportunity, and his family and friends have every right to be proud of his incredible achievements. He not only ran an internationally renowned cheesesteak joint, Joey donated hundreds of thousands of dollars to charitable causes, $60,000 a year to a local hospice alone. In a city probably populated by more characters than any other city on earth, he was as colorful as anyone, and in the terrific documentary This is My Cheesesteak, he came off as hilarious, charming, and unique. If it wasn’t for the xenophobia, I have a feeling I would have really liked the guy.

I offer condolences to his family and hope that he Rests in Peace. But I regret that he became a hero for a small group of people who are looking for simple answers to complex problems, instead of a hero for a whole city. He was a remarkable man. It’s a shame that instead of being remembered solely for his business acumen, his gregarious nature, and his charitable heart, his legacy will also be that he seemed to believe that some people deserved to be treated differently because of their culture, language, and country of origin. It is worth noting that there is a bartender in Mexico who feels the exact same way.

Johnny Goodtimes is a quizzo host, contributer to Comcast Sports, and founder of To follow him on twitter, click here.

Quizzo Overrated Says Philly Mag.

Philly Mag is a magazine written for Lower Merion moms, who as a demographic don’t play a lot of quizzo. So I don’t think Philly Mag’s assessment of quizzo as “Overrated” will really affect my bottom line a whole lot, but I do think it’s a bit of a low blow. For one thing, I was asked by a Philly mag staffer (who shall remain nameless, but is a good friend of mine who runs a certain local food blog. But again, no names) asked me to help give him some overrated/underrated ideas, which I gladly did. Then, after spending my time (free of charge, mind you) sending them ideas, quizzo gets trashed in their overrated piece?

Apparently par for the course for Philly publications. A few years ago, Philadelphia Weekly asked me to help rate their top 50 bars. I gladly did so, only to pick up the issue and that in that very same article they had listed Fergie‘s as the best quizzo in town. Was everyone who makes editorial decisions for local publications raised by wolves? Manners, people, manners.

But that’s not what really bothers me about this. What really bothers me is that the assessment of “Overrated” doesn’t make any sense. Overrated how? Is quizzo overrated because of the non-stop media coverage? The numerous corporate sponsorships? The people rioting over it in the streets? Furthermore, how does anyone on the Philly Mag staff know if it’s overrated? I don’t think they have quizzo at (Insert Flavor of the Month Scenester restaurant here), where the draft beers are $8 and the passenger pigeon terrine is “to die for”, so I’m not sure what they’re basing it on.

Quizzo is what it claims to be. A simple way for friends to have an excuse to drink a couple of cold ones at the bar on a Tuesday and hang out for 2 hours. How can that be overrated? If you’re gonna say that I’m overrated, or Irish Jon is overrated, or what have you, then you at least try to have an argument. But I’m not sure how quizzo itself can be construed as overrated. That’s like saying that beer is overrated or a night on the town is overrated.

Furthermore, your magazine is called Philadelphia magazine, and you’ve never run a piece on quizzo (that pic of me in Philly mag a couple of months ago was awesome, but the article was about the Phillies, not about quizzo), which has gone from a small Irish bar tradition among friends to a multimillion dollar national phenomenon in the past 20 years, and which started for all intents and purposes right here in Philly. That would make it different from some of your overrated things like cheesesteaks and Rocky, which you’ve written about, oh I don’t know, every single month for the past 35 years.

But that’s not what really pisses me off. What really pisses me off is that they have both Cole Hamels and the Palestra as “Rated”. Cole Hamels is the most underrated World Series MVP in history (he got booed earlier this year AT HOME) and the Palestra is half-full for most games despite being the coolest basketball arena in the country. I know most of you don’t get a chance to watch sports while you’re drinking French 75s at Swanky Bubbles**, but then goddamnit all hire somebody that knows something about sports. I know a guy, and as much as he rails against it, he loves passenger pigeon terrine. Furthermore, he was raised by wolves.

**Is that place even still open?

The Raelians Want You to Go Topless

This week we had the question, “What cult of nutjobs claimed to have created a human clone in 2002?” Strangely, almost no teams got this except at the Black Sheep, where most teams got it. The answer was the Raelians. Here is an article about that cloned baby, appropriately named Eve.

The Raelians eventually hope to develop adult clones into which humans could transfer their brains, Rael said. “Cloning a baby is just the first step. For me, it’s not so important,” he said. “It’s a good step, but my ultimate goal is to give humanity eternal life through cloning.”

So these people are obviously bat$hit crazy, but they’re not all bad. One of their big causes is topless rights for women. According to a website they operate called,

“As long as men are allowed to be topless in public, women should have the same constitutional right. Or else, men should have to wear something to hide their chests.”

We couldn’t agree more. They are holding a National Go-Topless Day on August 21st to support the cause. A number of cities are participating, including New York, DC, and Chicago. But thus far, no Philly. I think somebody needs to pick up the torch here. I would do it myself, but something tells me the wife would hit me over the head with a frying pan. So if you’re out there, and you believe in freedom, contact the Raelians immediately.

5 Quick Questions with Tonight’s Guest Host Felicia D’Ambrosio

We had a great time with last night’s guest hosts Suzy Woods and Drew lazor. Suzy handled the notoriously tough Vous crowd like a champ, and the round Drew wrote about food was damn good (I’ll post it a little later.)

Tonight, we welcome Felicia D’Ambrosio. She is managing editor at Grid Philly, writes for the City Paper, and is partnering with Michael Solomonov, among others, to open the highly anticipated Federal Doughnuts this summer. Here she talks about her best night of bartending, the most underrated bar in the city, and teaches us something we didn’t know about beer.

JGT: You took the bartender to food writer path. Give us one of your favorite bartending memories.

FELICIA: One of my best bartending nights was when the Phillies won the World Series.  I had been tending bar for much of the playoffs at the Belgian Cafe, and a huge groups of regulars had coalesced around the one TV.  When the end of the last game seemed imminent, and our victory close at hand, I began closing checks as fast as possible ’cause I knew everyone was going to go berserk.  They did indeed, and Chef Evan popped open tons of cheap champagne and we sprayed the crowd and screamed ourselves stupid.  Kisses all around. Then I rode my bike home through the debris of the Broad Street mayhem. Best night ever.

JGT: You know a lot about beer, having both written extensively about it and served it. Tell us something about beer we don’t know.

FELICIA: There’s much debate about how beer came about in the first place, as it was almost certainly an accident. There’s “wet grain” theory, and my favorite, “magic stick” theory.  As in, prehistoric people would stir the pot of grain gruel with the magic stick, which was inoculated with yeasts, and would start the conversion from porridge into sweet intoxicant. Dr. Ernie Schuyler of the Academy of Natural Sciences has some great research on the topic.

JGT: What’s the most underrated bar in the city?

FELICIA: Jose Pistolas is awesome, especially the upstairs. It’s sort of an employee lounge for the Monk’s crew (Joe Gunn is one of ours from back in the day) — great bartenders, huge beer selection, and shots of Jameson big enough to kill you.

JGT: What’s your prediction for the “Next Big Thing” on the Philadelphia bar and dining scene?

FELICIA: I’m still waiting for ramen, but the Royal Izakaya should be open soon, so we’ll see if that spawns imitators. Since I’m opening a fried chicken-and-donuts place with CookNSolo and the Bodhi Coffee guys, I’ll say gourmet donuts and fried chicken.

JGT: Ok, same question I closed with on Lazor. It’s 8 p.m. You’re being executed at midnight (needless to say, for a crime you didn’t commit). What’s your last meal?

FELICIA: My mom-mom’s manicotti and my great-grandmother’s Thanksgiving stuffing. A magnum of vintage Dom and a bottle of Cantillon Fou’ Foune. A giant pile of strawberries in season with DiBruno Bros. burrata and the best olive oil money can buy. The lobster custard served in an egg from Talula’s Table, then some king crab legs and butter. I’ll finish off with more from my mom-mom: her cream puffs, then some of Mr. Martino’s chocolate pudding. This is exactly how I plan to die, anyway.

Here’s another great interview with Felicia on Grub Street a couple of years ago.

Meet Drew Lazor, Who Guest Hosted a Round Wednesday at Black Sheep

We’ve got a couple of guest hosts at quizzo tonight. One of them most of you already know. The Beerlass, aka the Lovely Ginger, will host our opening round at the Rendezvous tonight. Beer Lass is well known in beer circles for repping for Sly Fox, for hosting the IPA girls beer club, and for running her Beerlass blog. Of course, she has also helped me at several Quizzo Bowls.

The other one is not as well known in quizzo circles, but is quite well known in food circles. Drew is the Food and Web editor at the City Paper and creator and editor of the popular Philly food blog Meal Ticket. Drew was so fired up he asked if he could write his own round. I said “Sure.” He’ll host that round tonight at Black Sheep.

I asked Drew a few questions about himself, the best and worst of the local food and drink scene, and what he’d request for his last meal:

1. When did you first become interested in writing about food?

Have definitely always been into food, but mostly the egregious overeating of it until I was assigned the “Feeding Frenzy” restaurant column as a college intern at City Paper. Kinda went from there with it and eventually became the food editor. Now when people ask me what I do I tell them I write articles about cheeseburgers.

2. What’s been the highlight of your career so far?

A few years ago Georges Perrier called me at work and yelled at me for a solid 15-20 minutes because he was upset about a (very positive!) review Trey Popp wrote of Le Bec-Fin, right after it had rejiggered its approach to become more casual. I was so flattered! Seriously. I’m pretty sure he didn’t care who it was who answered the phone, he simply unloaded on my ass because I picked up, but still, I’ll never forget that. GP tore me apart! As far as writing goes I enjoyed writing a long piece about pizza in Philly last summer.

3. Give us three of your favorite restaurants in Philly and a quick reason why.

This is always difficult but I’ll try. Mémé because it’s an honest place and it has bone marrow and fried chicken. Nan Zhou because I like to watch the dudes stretch noodles and slap them on the counter. Bistrot La Minette because it feels like France and I’ve never even been there.

4. What’s the coolest thing about the Philly food scene right now?

All the street food that’s been popping off! All the trucks are great of course but then you’ve got a lot of up-and-coming operations that are outdoor/stationary, like the carts setting up at Garden Variety at 2nd/Poplar. And then the Vendy Awards are happening in July here too. I think it’s cool that it’s growing so quickly.

4b) What’s the lamest thing about the Philly food scene right now?

I’ve been whining about this for years. There is no late-night pho. WHY IS THERE NO LATE-NIGHT PHO PLACE? PLEASE SOMEONE OPEN THIS.

5. You’re being executed at midnight. The warden takes your order at 8 p.m. What are you ordering?

My mom’s lumpia (Filipino egg rolls), my dad’s Yorkshire pudding, my girlfriend’s guacamole, sizzling mussels from Mémé, beef and tripe in chili oil from Han Dynasty, a crab pie from Matthew’s in Baltimore, Arista roast pork sandwich from Paesano’s, Kelly’s burger from Grace Tavern and the entire suckling pig situation from Amada, washed down with a Yards Philly Pale Ale, a Ballast Point Sculpin, a Penicillin from The Franklin and anything with bourbon in it from Southwark. Then Sour Patch Watermelons. And a Twix. With water. Whole lotta water.

Thanks Drew. We’ll see ya tonight!

Coolest Photo You’ll See All Day

Doesn’t this look like a Tim Burton movie set? It’s actually Schmidt’s Brewery. I posted a 1970s Schmidt’s ad on the Phillysportshistory site that’s pretty cool and started doing some research on Schmidt’s. What you’re seeing above is the entrance to their brewery, where the Piazza at Schmidt’s now stands. Here’s some info, courtesy of the awesome Philaplaces website (you’ll also find some more great photos there):

Poised on the boundary between Northern Liberties and Kensington, this sprawling 15-acre site was home to Schmidt’s, Philadelphia’s largest and most famous brewery, established in 1860. Schmidt’s was the last survivor of Philadelphia’s brewing industry, closing down in 1987 after over 125 years and leaving Philadelphia without a brewery for the first time in 300 years. Schmidt’s Beer — and its tenacity — was a point of pride for all Philadelphians. The Schmidt’s closure signaled once and for all the end of Philadelphia’s industrial era.