sunday. 3pm. #thebeaglepub

once you start the printing press it’s impossible to stop. thecaesarcaesar is just over a week old and it already feels like an unwelcome extension of my body – like a double chin or a cankle.

this next review is for my local watering hole which sure makes me nervous.  there is nothing worse than being noticed as the minor celebrity (i’m blowing up in russia with 4 hits!) who gave #beaglepub’s caesar a scathing review....but let’s hold off judgement until after this post is finished.

my sunday begins with all the usual routines falling into place – the bodyguard soundtrack is blasting and @steveandforrestincommon are having some laughs about the previous night.  it was a LATE one and i’m not feeling particularly pretty.

@beingpatready is the real saviour of the day.  he’s on a terrific-gentleman-day buying organic produce from #fairfieldgrocery and loading up on all the supplies necessary to take my focus from hangover to spirited sunday.

pagliaccis. NO. foyd’s. NO. blue fox. NO. .... by the time @beingpatready is finished with my kitchen, he’s painted a mona lisa on each of our plates, and we are dining on what is hands-down the best breakfast in victoria.  in summary: free range eggs poached soft on top of wild fire bakery toast, covered in a spread of ripe muddled avocado and served with thick galloping goose maple bacon and crisp local baby red potato hash browns. brunch boner! the amateur caesar bar, complete with stoli vodka and organic celery was a nice touch too (note: @beingpatready is happily married with 3 children and is monogamous. please do not pursue him. he’s mine.)

fast forward to breakfast being over and each of us two amateur caesars deep as we venture out into the brisk winter sunshine. after a short jaunt we’ve looped back and are at the welcoming doorway of the #beaglepub. the order is quickly placed, and two caesars  +  two driftwood classics are now on the table. i’m excited but nervous.


maybe it is the sexy companions i'm sitting with (see @jonandroy’s crotch on famouscrotch.tumblr.com) but the caesar doesn’t wow me upon arrival.  again, reserving judgement, i pull my moleskin® notepad out of my leather satchel and start documenting the experience with my 4H lead hipster pencil.  writing about caesars is truly gods most beautiful poetry.

‘caesar.  your red dress is my blanket. your strong liquor depresses my anxious soul.  i drink you. my lips devour your softness. pleasure is the taste of your salty passionate sweat. let us run naked through the streets together. let us share our love with the world.'  – ode to the caesar

maybe it’s because i’m a ginger, but the colour red is so fucking beautiful.  #thebeaglepub caesar is radiating in a vibrant shade that only red dye #2 could create.  i would have loved to be swallowed up by the moment, but my eyes are distracted by the horrendous rim salting job.  whoever is bartending  should be taken out back and strongly scolded. total brutes.

the beans are yummy, but the whole drink has obviously been put together in a rush, and attention to detail has been neglected.  for a bar that outright CLAIMS to have ‘the best caesar in victoria’ what i am served is a calamity.  

ingredients are key, and i think #thebeaglepub has that under control.  i go there often and the wait staff is always warm and professional (yes, she did just touch my arm right before i tipped).  if i could offer two pieces of advice it would be this... 1) stop claiming your caesar is the best in victoria.  it is probably the 70^th best in this beautiful city. use that slogan or use nothing. 2) treat each caesar as the beautiful lily she is – be gentle and let her shine. score: 70/99. you have a lot of work to do! i’m ordering driftwood classic from now on.