In exile from exile, I sort of miss one of the places my Island friends would insist I accompany them to on Friday nights: a watering hole called the “Elbar Room” which serves up a wonderful sour drink called “Elbar Grease” (I am serious)—it is like drinking straight lemon which for some reason I‘ve always liked (GW says I may be missing a gene). Anyway it’s some kind of sparkling wine with extremely sour lemon liquor and nectarines. The shiny military brass barstools alone make the place interesting. Sadly, I don’t know when I can return just yet. Continue reading