by Max Brantley
I was thinking yesterday, when it was 104, of cold draft beers I have known. I date myself, as always, but somehow I was taken back to happy hours in the Leather Bottle and those thick, frozen goblets they used to serve draft beer. So cold it hurt, almost. Many evenings, Bob Hayes would be strumming and singing standards. They also served cold draft across the street at the Bottom of the Rock restaurant, the building scraped long ago. They had it all. Burgers, real fries, real onion rings, barbecue, pizza, Tex-Mex and, weird though you might think this to recall, some of the best cole slaw ever.
Enough of that. Vote on today's favorites.