Grow a Pair

I can't take it anymore, fellas.

The overly polished. The perfect color coordination. The androgyny. What in the hell happened to the American gentleman?

Looking nice is important. So is owning well-made clothing. But as Americans, we need to put the man back in gentleman. That doesn't mean chest bumping is back in. Neither are rounds of Jaeger bombs.
We're not bros, we're gentleman.
But we have to do something to fight these emasculating trends in high fashion.

Forget to wash your hair. Wear that oxford wrinkled and half tucked in. I don't care. But if I see one more hairless Aryan walking around in pastels and thick-framed glasses I'm gonna lose my freaking cool.
I'm guilty. I've done it. I bought the ideas that the inexorable gods of fashion shoved down my throat. But we're Americans. We're supposed to be a little grundge. A little undone. It's who we are.

Go out and get your hands dirty. Sweat. Order a whiskey. Loosen your collar. But at the end of the day,  pick up the check and hold the door. You're still a gentleman.

Please observe the badass-ness of Paul Newman. American fashion icon and total ladies' man.  We gotta bring this back. That is, if you're man enough.

Drinking the Heat Away

Can you feel that?

Humidity you can chew on. A thousand straight hours of cloud cover. A complete lack of this city’s famous wind.

Feels like summertime in Chicago. And that means two things: Winter clothes belong on the shelf. And so do winter drinks.

I know alcohol makes you sweat. And hit on your boss’s daughter. But some drinks beat the heat better than others. 

Sure, you can still order the 10% alcohol meal-in-a-glass stouts, or sip the heavy dessert wines, or take your whiskey neat. I get that, I love them, too. But I got two words for you: pit stains.

Here’s my advice for beer drinkers: Go German. Lagers, Kolschs, Hefeweizens. The styles are classic, and, more importantly, refreshing. Those beer mongers nailed the light, crisp, but still flavorful session beers. And the good news is that many American craft breweries have taken on a summer beer in those traditions. Try Anchor Summer Beer. Or if you’re really into this muggy, sun-filled season, try beer infused with a light fruit. Dogfish Head Festina Peche is a beer that lets you embrace fruit this summer and still feel like a man. 

The cocktails have a simple formula: Keep it fruity, keep it carbonated, or do both. And when it comes to mixers, don’t venture too far away from the color white. (Color generally comes from aging, which adds a multitude of flavor, which often clashes with mixers and is generally more alcoholic.) It’s hard to go wrong with a margarita or a standard mojito.

And for the vinos: Prosecco. Just like that. It was once a relatively obscure grape that rarely got out of Italy. Now it’s booming popularity has put it on the shelf in every liquor store in the world. And if you don’t do bubbly, there’s always a Sauvignon Blanc. Ask your shop owner for a bottle that’s grassy in flavor. Sounds bad, tastes great.

Stay thirsty.

KM Montgomery

Malaise

Every now and again, bloggers suffer from Common Malaise. It happens to all of us...it does!
But now I'm back. At least I think I'm back. I have to (re)prove myself to, uh, myself, and any faithful readers I had.
That being said, give me a day or two to collect all of my notes, camera cords and empty bourbon glasses and by the WEEKEND a BRAND NEW blog post by yours truly will be UP for you to READ and SHARE with your friends. (FOR YOU SKIMMERS, I CAPITALIZED THE IMPORTANT STUFF. THANKS FOR SKIMMING.)

Coming soon... A rant on light beer, the artist profile of Nicki Valente (about freakin' time, huh?), and an open letter.

So there, I'm back... with a college degree. Booya!

Never trust a Dell

Sorry for the delay in posting, friends. I'm experiencing some computer issues, rendering my blogging power useless.

I will be back as soon as possible with an interview from local Chicago artist Nicki Valente, another open letter, and more.

Don't stop believing.

KM Montgomery

Indulgence Is A Virtue

I’ve been known to overeat. And down a few too many drinks. And take jokes way too far. But what can I say? I love indulging myself. It just feels good.

In all seriousness, I have a passion for flavor (the joke thing is just one of my downsides.) Not to be confused with connoisseur, or snob, I am simply fascinated by the food palate. I still eat Chinese take-out and have never been able to pick out the black cherry notes from a bottle of syrah, but I do know when something tastes good, and I have a preference for things that taste better than others.

Food is a great thing in that it can be reinvented in an infinite number of ways. Look at the heights that pizza has risen to. From a bread and butter Italian meal to the healthy alternatives of veggie to the gourmet prosciutto and caramelized pineapple in simple syrup. And the sandwich! I would sell my first born child for a gooey tangy cubano on flatbread.

And don’t get me started on booze. I’m starting to border on snobbery when it comes to my precious alcohol. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve drank enough cheap beer to float a battleship, but those days are gone. I am addicted to flavor, and the cheap stuff (when it comes to alcohol) is severely lacking. An India Pale Ale out of Colorado or a small batch bourbon just tickles your tongue in ways that are probably illegal in some parts of the world.

I wish I could say it was because of my upbringing on fine dining, but I didn’t have that kind of childhood. I was a steak and potatoes guy for a very long time. I liked my cheese American, my bread white, and my vegetables to be on someone else’s plate. Hell, I was more of a snob growing up than I am now. It was fried chicken and corn on the cob all day, and I wanted nothing different.

But coming to the city changed that for me. I soon realized my closed-minded outlook on food boiled down to fear of change, and I was attending a liberal arts college now, goddamnit! I had to change. And it was all for the better.

I didn’t start going to Chicago’s premier steakhouses or attending exclusive wine tasting (those can be really snobby,) I just set out experimenting. It was obvious right away Chicago’s ethnic diversity in foods. Lebanese, Algerian, Italian, French, Japanese, Spanish, Greek. There were some occasional modern fusion restaurants, and my eyes started to open up. Flavor. It was everywhere. It was the best thing in the world. It was…incredible.

Alcohol followed the same way. Once I discovered the celebration of microbreweries and distilleries, I was hooked. In a lot of ways, people have been doing what I do forever. With clothes, with music, with art. With variety comes preference, and with preference comes connoisseurship, or, in my case, enthusiasm. 

Take a Culture Pill

The only thing I remember about high school chemistry is not the isotopes of hydrogen or balancing chemical equations, but the words of my Vietnam vet teacher Dennis Shutzenhofer: "All these things your learning about science, about chemistry, about physics; what do they mean in the real world? Nothing! Nothing at all, but at least you know it, and for that, you're more worldly than you were before this morning!" He used to tell us that daily, and we used to roll our eyes and moan and fail to really understand what it meant to be worldly.
     How many times have you had a conversation with someone that was so one-dimensional that changing the topic seemed not only awkward, but impossible? Probably more than you'd realize. And it's sad.

It's redundant to say, but we have more information at our fingertips today than in other time in the past, but with the luxury of instantaneous anything, comes those who expect it to be put in their lap. Unfortunately, we're not at that point; if we want to know something, there is still a small amount of digging to do. But isn't that the fun part?

There's a definite reward in reading an interesting article in National Geographic magazine, or watching a riveting documentary about Hurricane Katrina. Find something that interests you, and learn about it. Read a book. Write a poem. Watch a sporting event. Try a new cuisine. Do something you can talk about, and make sure you do, in fact, talk about it with somebody. When I worry about my peers, I don't worry that we're all becoming idiots. I worry that modern society is killing our passion. Ask a young person these days what they're passionate about, and just as often as you will get a good answer, you'll also hear something like: "I don't know, not much really. Hanging out. Uh..."
The reward has become so minimal for applying effort and following passion that younger people (though not exclusively us) are settling for mediocrity because it's, well, easy. And that is the sad truth that's rampant in our generation.

So for all those out there who can sustain conversation without references to celebrities and reality television, I commend you. You're alright with me.

Recommendations:

-Put down Us Weekly and pick up The New Yorker. Read, it's good for your brain.
-Visit a gallery opening. They're more often than not free, entertaining, and sometimes provide enough free booze for a good buzz.
-Check out more blogs. There is an enthusiast for every. single. thing on Earth.
-Go to a soccer pub and watch a live game on a Saturday or Sunday morning. Bring your drinking shoes.


Coming soon...Interview with local artist Nicki Valente

Open Letter

Dear Mel Gibson,

Whoa, hey! What's up sugar tits?! It's so good to have you back. God, I haven't seen you since you teamed up with M. Night Shyamalan and completely destroyed the mystique of crop circles for everybody (Aliens that dissolve in water, really?). So that makes it, what, like eight years? Might as well have been forever! And I haven't seen people this excited for a comeback since my man JC floated up to the heavens with a return ticket back to Earth. But dude, don't worry, you never left my radar. I totally followed your directing career. Passion of the Christ? Apocalypto? Saw 'em. And yea, loved 'em. (Nothing says epic like ancient guttural languages and lots and lots of blood!) You see, while many Americans don't like being bashed over the head with your uber-Catholic religious message, I freakin' love it. Hit me again! Again! All those critics who tried to tarnish your reputation by labeling you a holier-than-thou fanatic with an offensive agenda were probably just a bunch of fucking Jews, anyway. Right? Not only were your directorial escapades merited, they were inspiring. I mean, without someone like you to pave the way for filmmakers to saturate their work with gratuitous violence and gore, do you think Saw or, say, Hostel, would be the cult classics they are today? Uh, no. You're a pioneer, dude. And now you're back! And I don't even need to mention that little speed bump of a DUI you had because, well, we've all been there, Mel. For real, can't a guy just drink until he's in a cloud of whiskey vapor that has seeped from his pores, drive recklessly, and then insult his arresting officer with anti-Semitic and sexist expletives? COME ON! It's 2010! Everybody else is doing it!
So, I got to say, I am so super-pumped about your new thriller, Edge of Darkness. This is a totally new role for you; average joe family man has to protect those he cares about. This could be a breakout for you!
But let me be honest; can I be honest, Mel? I'm looking to the future. We all know that great comebacks don't really begin until the second act. So, man, what's next? A tragi-com about being a Jew? Braveheart 2? Back to back crime thrillers? Gawd, please say Braveheart 2! (crosses fingers)
Well, buddy, no matter what you do, just know I'm on board. No questions asked. I will beat down every Jew in Hollywood if it gets you on screen again. Because if I have to endure another hiatus like this last one, I'll probably grow up, and find myself way too old to have any kind of respect for you. So, let's strike while the iron's hot. Let's get out there and kick some ass! (In the name of the Lord, of course)

Oh, duh! Lethal Weapon 5! Man, I should've thought of that earlier!

KM Montgomery