It was a year of turmoil. A year of tension. And of new ways to release said tension—among them bocce, brisket and countless bottles of whiskey. Let’s review...
Think whiskey. No, more. Still more. Now you might be approaching the near-2,000 selections at this three-story whiskey emporium—many of them from the personal library of a local collector. It beats leaving them to the Smithsonian.
We could have predicted the people would line up for “moist” Texas brisket and beer can game hen. Not so much the live karaoke nights, which had you queuing up to belt out “Ring of Fire.”
Finally, a bar whose beer prices fluctuate in real time, based on demand. Convince the table next to you to order Guinness, and the price might drop. You’re the Jim Cramer of the beer exchange.
Bespoke suits: you got ’em. But enter bespoke shopping, where everything in the store is pulled for you, in your size. The only thing not designed with you in mind: the house cocktail. Which is probably forgivable.
You’ve had bocce victories. But never in view of a partisan crowd packed into stadium seating next to the court. Of course, you plied them all with smoked-ice cocktails, but that’s another story.
Previously, if you wanted to train like SEAL Team 6, you had to stand up to your neck in a mud pit by yourself. Now, there’s a former SEAL who tells you to do it. You pay him for the privilege.
Virginia’s hottest opening was a 19th-century warehouse converted to a place where organ meats lived alongside beer cocktails, and billiards lived alongside classic arcade games. Proving that space-time somehow involves Pac-Man.
