Trusty Springfield

When it comes to accepting food and drink recommendations, I have trust issues. There’s nothing worse than taking someone’s advice on a drink, restaurant or dish, having it blow, and spending the night thinking, “This evening would have been pleasant if SO AND SO hadn’t FUCKED ME. Fool me once, shame on So and So. Fool me twice, well, that won’t happen. This person is out of my life forever.”

That being said, I do have a select group of people in my life whose taste I trust implicitly, and I look to them for guidance before making choices that involve leisure. This group includes close friends, fellow Taste bloggers, and other people I know hated the movie “Crash”… A new person was added to that list a few weeks ago: my sister.

I’ll admit it: this was long overdue. My sister, who is three years my junior, has proved time and again that she has very good taste in very many areas. In fact, I was with her when I saw “Crash.” That afternoon, there was not one, but two McLaughlins yelling, “THIS IS STUPID!!! FUCK YOU!!!!!!!” at the family TV set. The reason for her only recent addition to the list isn't that she used to have bad taste and now, suddenly, has good taste. It’s just that, well, I’m an older brother. I’ve always been the one showing her shit. I turned her on to The Beatles and The Replacements. I showed her “L.A. Confidential.” I took her to her first Ryan Reynolds movie -- oh wait, that wasn’t my sister. That was my worst enemy.

For a long time, I think I just had trouble getting used to her showing me something that I didn’t know about already, because I was so used to the opposite. Well, all that changed a couple weeks ago in Boston, where she lives. I learned the hard way. When we went into a bar on my first night there, she ordered the Pretty Things Jack D’Or and suggested I do the same. I ignored her and ordered some other thing I hadn’t heard of. Mine blew. Hers was great. I was the So And So who ruined my night. I screwed up badly. I even thought about punishing myself the next day by walking in the rain without an umbrella, or eating at Subway.

It's a special saison -- on par with that special French one, Dupont, that Gerard Depardieu drank too much of and sprayed all over an airplane out of his wiener. We got dinner the next night at Audubon Circle on Beacon Street and The Jack D'Or was on the menu there. We got a big bottle of it for 8 bucks, perfect to split. It was essentially a $4 special beer for each of us. I had a great beer. I had a great meal. I learned to trust my sister. What more could I have asked for? Being wrong but drinking good beer is almost as good as being right.

Side note: I fell in love with the waitress we had at Audubon. She was ravishing and very pleasant. I’ll love her until the day I die, and beyond. Unless she likes “Crash.”