Clydesdales

The King is Coming...

Main Street was the place to be last Thursday night. The finest product of Anheuser-Busch was to be featured. I refer not to Budweiser or even Michelob; I mean the Clydesdales. The splendid team of magnificent animals was to draw the famous beer wagon and stop at various bars, pubs, and taverns of Plymouth.

Before the Crowd at the New World Tavern

Annette and I took our seats at The New World Tavern, ordered drinks, and awaited spectacle. I sampled Mayflower Brewing Thanksgiving Ale. I love the Mayflower products because they don’t overwhelm me with hops, spice, pumpkin, chocolate or any other flavor that is fashionable among craft brewers. They remember that ale should taste like ale. The Thanksgiving ale has a hint of spice but retains balance and is very drinkable. The following morning I became the proud owner of two bottles. If they issue it every year, Thanksgiving ale could become a Talbot family tradition.

We all piled onto the sidewalk when the team arrived. Just as I cannot hear “The William Tell Overture” without thinking of the Lone Ranger, I can’t see the Clydesdales draw the beer wagon without hearing the Budweiser jingle. Never mind; we are Americans and our culture permeates our being.

Mark T Small on guitar

I hadn’t been in the New World Tavern for some time and was happy to see it thriving. With our drinks, Annette and I enjoyed crispy pork belly on steamed buns with Asian style sauce that lifted the concept of pub food into the ionosphere. We also enjoyed large soft pretzels with mustard for dipping. A fellow by the name of Mark T. Small played the guitar and sang the blues. “We ought to get out more often,” I said to Annette.