Fuschia and I were too exhausted after our long week in FL to do much in the way of cooking this weekend. Saturday afternoon found us at Molly Malone's in St. Matthews, hoping for a quick bite. The place was pretty much dead, something I was truly surprised by. Normally that bar is a haven for the yuppie crowd, with tons of people hanging out on the patio. Maybe only late night draws a huge crowd, cause we were holding down the joint with no more than 20 other folks.
Like most American-Irish pubs, Molly Malone's has dark wood, fish n chips and Guinness on tap. They also have a a great space with high ceilings (a bit of a rarity in the average pub), an uncluttered feel and decently friendly waitstaff. Fuschia and I chose the steak and onion sandwich and fish n chips, respectively, while electing to share a Magners Irish Cider for fun.
Over the years hard cider has become our go-to beverage, as neither one of us ever developed a real beer friendly palate. As most of you know, I can drink a beer or five, but I may not enjoy it to the fullest degree possible. But hard cider? I love cider. Introduced to me by my now bestie Spurs, hard cider is my fave indulgence; my beverage/dessert. Upon trying the Magners, a blend of 15 apples, we both agreed that the dry finish and complexity of flavor was really appealing. We had no trouble finishing the pint.
Our food arrived piping hot (truly, I have a blister to prove it) and looked nearly as appetizing as pub food is capable of looking. Although I had cheated and gotten fish n roasted potatoes, I enjoyed my meal. The roasted potatoes had a wonderful char on the skins, with a smooth interior that was perfect. They were instantly my favorite part of the meal. The cod was beer battered, deep fried and served with two things that I detest: coleslaw and tartar. I know, I know...I just can't make myself eat that stuff.
The fish was decent, although a tad undercooked, and I managed to eat 1.5 fillets. Fuschia meanwhile was steadily devouring a steak sandwich that she reported to be okay. Because she believes food is only a vehicle for condiments, Fuschia is often less than enthusiastic about sauceless entrees. That was how the steak sandwich offended her. After applying some post facto mayo, she reported the plate a success, finishing her sandwich and my leftover cod.
Due to having to work just a few hours later, I abstained from additional cider intake, though I could've easily done damage to that keg. As we're paying the check Fuschia lowers her voice, cocks her head and says "look who it is". I slyly glance in the direction she's indicated, nod sagely and say "A really tall dude and a not so tall dude." With that my lovely Fuschia, in that classic way that Louisvilles' natives reserve for those of us that just aren't from here, rolls her eyes and says "that's Pitino".
My incomprehension may have been obvious because she followed that pronouncement with a sigh and "you know, the head basketball coach for the Cardinals. you know, they were number 2 last year." Oh yeah, that guy. Clearly I was expected to know just by seeing him, but what can I say.....I'm a freaking football fan. Mark Richt I would have asked for an autograph:)