On a recent Wednesday evening, a youngish crowd gathered on the banks of Paris' Seine River to catch a ride to a nearby island. After the short crossing, they sat on blankets and pillows amid crackling fire pits and ate Irish tapas. There were plates of salad greens tossed with Clonakilty blood sausage, thick with oats. Bowls of chunky seafood chowder with smoked salmon were followed by creamy mocha hazelnut meringue—all of which helped absorb a variety of whiskey-based drinks, including whiskey Mojitos. Folksy rock bands played on a makeshift stage, not loud enough to overwhelm conversation. The event was called Foodstock. And while most of the guests were better dressed and better smelling than attendees at the namesake Woodstock festival 41 years ago, both groups shared a spirit of revolution.
The only reasons I’ve ever visited the industrial wasteland around Jefferson and Osuna were to pick up an obscure part for a vacuum cleaner and to dispose of trash I had forgotten to put out for two weeks straight. The opening of Hallenbrick Brewery gave me a whole new incentive to actually drive north of Osuna. Of course a beer freak like me would. The question is, would anyone else?