A stop in at The Squealing Pig in Mission Hill left a plethora of options. First order of business, the Endurance Pale Ale, a product of the Commonwealth. Hoppy, sure, you betcha. Bitter, oh sure, just a bit. It was halfway up the trail between my good friend General Chamberlain and a typically stiff IPA from the Portsmouth Brewery. But how could I concentrate with all this food. And with the Mars Bar Toastie coming quickly, I had to find something lighter.
A scan of the beer menu led me to "Eph-emmer", which was promptly corrected by my server. "Eph-uh-mare" she snootily mused. Oh for the love of G*d whatever lady.
Call it what you will; I call it a sleeping pill. Those canucks put the kibosh on the rest of my evening in one fell swill. It was like drinking Unisom. Or maybe my hipster waitress spiked it and slipped me something as punishment for my awkward mispronunciation. Who really knows. Blame her for this sh*tty review.
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