Woodford F&b

Friday night. Fall. Brisk yet comfortable. Maine. Your humble narrator chooses to venture out to unwind and treat himself to the best burger in town. There’s a line at the door.. he sees a single corner spot waiting and deftly maneuvers to grab it. “What are you having?” “Can I get a ‘The Burger’ and a Hendricks & Tonic, please?” “Sure, how would you like that?” “Medium, thank you.” --- Your humble narrator is in his happy place. The once refreshing “Gin for the Win” has taken back burner to the carnal juicy succulence of brisket blanketed by thick cut smoked bacon.. meticulously adorned with the tart deliciousness of the traditional style house-made pickle.. and the sweet freshness of grilled onion. By this point, the Friday night dinner-rush has subsided. and your humble narrator has more elbow room. “I guess I have to stand near this f*cking guy with his stupid Cubs hat” is heard from across the room in a Fran Drescher-esque shriek. The burger love affair has ended. The bartender stares at her.. wondering if he needs to cut someone off before ever serving them. “Fran Drescher” orders a water. then proceeds to tell your humble narrator to crawl in a hole and die while punching him in the arm. I think she was hitting on me. Too bad I don’t date Red Sox fans. This advertisement paid for by Woodford Food & Beverage, home of the best burger in Portland. Go Cubs