It's unofficially the doldrums of summer, when things like job performance and precise maneuverings in time and space take backseat to the more important goals of porch-sitting and pool-seeking. And coming in a close third: cold beer-sipping. Traditionally, this activity should be done from an icy, sweating can.
So what the hell is a gastropub? I hear the term at least once a day lately—I've even begun to use it myself. But I’m sure some of you would like a clear definition. In a nutshell, it describes British pubs that have taken it upon themselves to serve bar food that goes beyond hot wings and extreme nachos. What that translates to is restaurant-quality food in a place you’d normally reserve for picking up the drunkest tube top-wearing barfly who can still legally give consent. Something about the idea speaks to my very soul.