Popcorn

For the record, I love popcorn. I have no sweet tooth, but I have a total salt tooth. And popcorn is top of the list.

This is my favorite local bar (despite the fact that their web site is lame and uses comic sans font). Great beer, great food and they have and old school popcorn maker where you can help yourself. And they spice up the popcorn (obviously to get you to drink more beer) in a way that is totally delicious.

My four year old, Victoria, likes popcorn as much as me. At the movies we are collectively dangerous. And she also think the popcorn at the Alehouse is delicious. This is both great and dangerous.

Any time we go anywhere that causes us to pass the Alehouse, Tori will say, “I want popcorn”. Like I need my four year old to give me an excuse to drink beer. I find myself in the extremely strange position of arguing with my daughter not to go to my favorite bar.

Of course, once in a while it is convenient to go there. “Hey, Tori, want to go for popcorn?”. Awesome.

The crazy thing is that invariably after having beers, food and popcorn (yes, I know popcorn is food, but it’s really a whole separate category) I’m the one saying “Tori, it’s time to go”. She wants to stay, I want to go.

Let’s recall, I love beer. Especially good beer. This place has tons of good beer. I love this place. But Tori can eat popcorn longer than I want to drink beer.

I have the best daughter ever…