If you’ve ever wondered why the line cooks at the Hamilton Eatery shout out the order number–even now that the shop’s empty–it’s not just to get the customer’s attention. It’s mostly because they’re doing profuse amounts of blow down in the basement on their lunch break.
Just below the floorboards of Lebanon Street’s quaint, welcoming, hangover cure Mecca, a subterranean rager is in effect at all hours. In the wake of underage drinking baron John Jug’s executive decision to temporarily shutter the Old Stone Jug, Eatery manager Clay Skinner deftly swooped in to fill the power vacuum, adding to what’s become a saga of similar gambits by local businesses. “Tell you the truth, I’m just glad we had the idea before the Colgate Inn,” Skinner said. “I mean, they’ve already got a fully furnished, literal speakeasy collecting dust beneath the Tavern! Guess they just didn’t have the stones to try it. Hey, these interviews are anonymous, right?” When approached for comment, Michelle delivered a scathing screed against the Jug’s newest rival: “Those pot pie-peddling sons of bitches are in for a world of hurt, once we come back!”
It’s a poorly kept secret in Hamilton that the Jug’s tight with local law enforcement, hence their Teflon status when it comes to ushering in underage patrons. Asked about the Eatery’s success in staying off Hampo’s radar in the midst of the pandemic, Skinner replied, “We have something of a quid pro quo arrangement–they let us be, and we refrain from introducing the student-petitioned ‘All Cops Are Battered’ menu item. It’s basically a corn dog with mac and cheese thrown in, ‘cause why not? I thought it was pretty clever, not to mention a genius concept from a culinary standpoint, but I could see how the name might ruffle some feathers–or ‘rinds,’ or whatever the fuck pigs have.” The Hamilton Police Department declined to comment.
Upon gaining entry to the raucous affair, our undercover reporter questioned a student in a vomit-soaked “Keep Calm and Eatery On” t-shirt (presumably on loan, or won in a drinking contest) about whether they’d be inclined to continue frequenting the Eatery’s clandestine cabaret once the pandemic ends. “Oh, without a doubt!” They replied before stumbling backward into a pallet of Natty racks. “The bathroom here has a working lock, and VIPs get special service upstairs! Tomorrow morning, I’m coming back as soon as my migraine wears off to get a breakfast burrito in 5 fucking minutes, instead of 15. You can’t put a price on that!”
The Eatery gang seems to have knocked it out of the park, and stole the Jug’s thunder for good measure. Next time you’re itching to be a deviant the night before your paper’s due, hang a left on Lebanon! And since you’ve been so patient, here’s the “secret knock:” order the Breakfast BLT with thousand island dressing (let’s be honest, no ordinary customer in their right mind’s gonna order that–it comes on a bagel, for fuck’s sake).
The Monthly Rag 
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