Got a New Job? Drink Olive Beer

So yay for me, I got a job! We wanted to go grab a drink to celebrate but weren't sure where to go. We head down to West 4th street to walk to Little Italy, which we discover is basically just a couple blocks right up next to Chinatown. There are people everywhere and singers serenading outside diners. Seems like a tackier version of Boston's North End.

At this point neither of us care much where we go, and there are literally dozens of options around us. Too many options to be honest. But in our peripheral vision, something strikes us. What's this? Happy Hour ALL DAY? Well, sign me up.

The restaurant is called Puglia's and upon closer inspection we find that the happy hour deal is for the bar only. The bar looks uncomfortable (to put it kindly). Red Flag #1. We say screw the bar and let's just eat in the dining room. But there are two doors that open up to a dining room with no clear host/hostess stand. And no waitstaff. We wonder, where on earth to we go in and who do we talk to about getting a seat? Red Flag #2. A nice Yankees fan instructs us on where to go, despite Pam's Red Sox shirt (or maybe because of it).

We find someone and they basically tell us to sit wherever we want. Most of the tables are pushed together rather cafeteria style off to either side of the room. Red Flag #3. But we find a nice quiet corner that we think shouldn't be too bad. We begin looking over the menu. And then...

The entertainment begins. And he's got a keyboard. And he's got huge ass speakers, one of which is directly next to us. "That's Amore," "The Chicken Dance," oh he does them all. All the classics. Loudly. Small children walk by literally covering their ears. It's funny for about 37 seconds. There's really no way to fully describe the experience, but there's evidence on YouTube (complete with diners singing along exuberantly):



We shout our order to the waiter: a bianca pizza, stuffed mushrooms to start and a pitcher of Coors Light. The beer comes first and the second I take the first sip I know immediately something is wrong and when I look up I see Pam smacking her lips pointedly as if to say, "Hmmm... well that sure is interesting. Something you don't taste every day." I thought maybe it was just skunked... or a dirty tap. But after a second... and third... and fourth sip I knew it was definitely OLIVE. Very olive. Olive oil(ish). Or maybe just straight up olive juice. Olive infused beer, if you will. In a word: disgusting. This was unfortunate. We kind of wanted to get out of there as soon as humanly possibly and it seemed (at the time) that it would be much more hassle to return the beer (by screaming over the music to the waiter to explain that it "tastes like olives").

So we just shotgunned each glass. Naturally.

I haven't found anything online about olive tasting beer, so comments would be appreciated if anyone has heard of such a thing. And describing it does not give the full effect, so I photoshopped a little something and this is exactly what it tasted like:



Stuffed mushrooms were meh, but the pizza was decent if not slightly drowning in ricotta. We finally managed to get out of there after a side trip to the ATM, another round of classic Italian canzoni, a lobbed drinking glass off the table, and a pitcher full of olive beer in our bellies.