As a kid born in August, late summer was always a bit bittersweet for me. Just as I was celebrating my birthday, there was that nagging realization we’d all be going back to school in a few weeks.
Happy birthday! Summer’s over.
I had that feeling again this week as I was driving back from a lovely day at Lake Brandt and spotted a Spirit Halloween store already setting itself up on Lawndale Avenue.
Did they move Halloween? Or is it, in fact, still three full months away?
Here in reality, there’s more than a month of summer left. Wanting badly to hold onto it and inspired by Lena Gellar’s excellent column last month in Indy Week on the best Durham Bulls concessions, my wife Amanda and I decided to take ourselves out to the ballgame. It was a good time for it. The Greensboro Grasshoppers were playing the Winston-Salem Dash all this week (Oh…because there’s a dash in Winston-Salem. I just got that. Nicely done.).
Were we looking for peanuts and Cracker Jack? Like hell. We were looking for something more. Something that would, to paraphrase my favorite baseball movie, announce its presence with authority.
Well, first we wanted a beer. Cider for my wife. It’s hot out there.
While I’d love to see more local beer on tap at First National Bank Field, I was able to get my hands on a tall, frosty Red Oak. That’s always going to put a smile on my face. Wicked Weed out of Asheville was also on offer. Then it was time to truly sample the summer ballpark fare.
Happy to report that they’ve got the ballpark basics solidly covered. The Sidewinder Fries are, as the guy who sold them to me at the stand described them, “sort of a cross between curly fries and potato wedges” — nicely crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside. As Amanda said, for under $5 you could give just these to your kids and call it dinner.
While Lena was disappointed in the pretzels in Durham, we found the ones in Greensboro large, soft, warm, and salty. The perfect partner for a pint or two. Friends we met at the game reported the veggie burgers were decent, and we heard good things about the nachos.
But come on.
What you’ve really got to do is hit the Hoppin’ Hound Dogs cart, where you’ll find half-pound foot-long hot dogs, brats, and Italian sausages.
The undisputed MVP of this line-up: The Connie Mack Attack. This footlong is topped with mac-and-cheese, pulled pork, bacon, and barbecue sauce—a hot dog so large and worryingly girthy you avert your eyes as they’re making it, make peace with taking a knife and fork, and feel thankful you have TUMS at home.
But this is not a challenge food to be eaten with trepidation and appreciated ironically. We found it so deeply satisfying that it eased the pain of seeing our Grasshoppers solidly trounced by the Dash.
We shared the dog and many napkins, marveling at the great baseball names on the roster—Tony Blanco Jr., Jhonny Severino, Yordany De Los Santos.
“Do you think they’re stage names?” my wife asked.
“No,” I said. “I think the Baseball Gods look down on the families who give their children these great names and turn their legs into mighty pistons, their arms into rockets. Some people are born for this game.”
It is still summer. The baseball season stretches out into early September. Get out there and enjoy it.
