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Bros, Brews & Brats? Not Exactly

Patrick Cusick


Sep 8th, 2014

Football field

So it’s football season. Again. I can’t help feeling like this is a year-round sport now. Full disclosure: I’m not a football fan. At all. Not even the Super Bowl. Not even the home team. It just doesn’t interest me. In spite of this, I got talked in to attending a tailgating event (I’m probably saying that wrong) before some big game between the local team and some other team. Who’s got spirit?

Fully prepared to be all “Whatever…” as I walked around refusing to reciprocate unsolicited high-fives, fist bumps and questions about why I wasn’t wearing a jersey or face paint, I’d agreed to attend this ritual as a favor. In truth, I’d lost a bet. It was a bet I should not have lost. No matter, I was in it now. Time to “man up,” as the kids say, or at least act like I knew what I was doing.

Upon arrival, and to my great delight, my senses were immediately inundated with the smells of grilling – and not garden-variety franks and burgers. Beautiful steaks, marinated chicken, and vegetables, cooked and served elegantly, were abundant. This was more emblematic of a food festival than a football game. My jaded perspective was quickly changing.

Soon, I was high-fiving and fist-bumping not for touchdowns and tackles, but for tastes and textures. Treated to one of Albertsons’ RR Ranch New York steaks with asparagus and mushrooms, I realized football was, in fact, the sideshow. The main event was this glorious collection of culinary all-stars, artfully cooking thoughtful and delicious food.


Am I a football fan now? Will I don a jersey, paint my face, and root for the home team? Probably not. But I’m more than happy to bet on it, and really I hope I lose.

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