El Dorado Saloon and Grill, El Dorado Hills, CA

[Rant mode: ON]

I’ve noticed that YouTube is really upping the number of ads I must endure while watching a video or even searching for one. Evidently they’re trying to make the experience so unpleasant that I’ll sign up for “YouTube Premium” (about $250 per year through the Apple app).

Now, in theory, I would pay a few bucks for a YouTube subscription that is truly ad-free. But here’s the rub: the firewalls of these “ad-free” experiences invariably break down. I mean, look at PBS. When it started out, you never saw ads. Then the “underwriter” announcements crept in, then began to take the shape of commercials, until now you really can’t tell the difference between PBS and commercial television. Same thing with cable, which didn’t originally have ads because you were paying directly for the service. But now cable (or even your modern streaming service) inundates you with commercials. And of course movie theaters have gotten in on the act –I pay my twelve bucks or whatever it costs to see a movie, and I expect that I’ve bought the right to view it without distractions. But then they spend the first 15 minutes showing us Coca Cola ads and trailers for upcoming films (i.e., commercials). I can’t even pump a tank of gas–at a cost that approaches the per-capita income of some developing countries–without having to watch a commercial play out on the pump’s screen.

And I have tried paying the ransom to avoid ads. I purchased a year’s subscription to the “ad-free” version of one of my favorite podcasts, but within a few weeks my “ad-free” episodes began to regularly include pitches for me to upgrade to the “plus” version with extended interviews–in other words, commercials.

I’ve been thinking about all this because I happened to be driving by the El Dorado Saloon in El Dorado Hills, CA. Just the other day this place had been recommended to my by loyal reader Bill B, as a source of Bavarian pretzels and beer cheese. So I stopped and took a seat on their patio, which was bathed in loud but inoffensive country music…but every five minutes the music was interrupted with a commercial. I ask you: Isn’t the ambiance of a restaurant part of what you’re paying for? And if so, shouldn’t that shield me from exposure to unwanted ads for PetSmart?

[Rant mode: OFF]

Anyway, there I was at the El Dorado Saloon, sitting on the deck in the most perfect fall weather, and I ordered up their “Hot Pretzels.” The menu describes the dish as “Two large hot pretzels with a side of beer cheese sauce.” A little generic, but what the heck? I went for it.

The pretzels arrived at my table immediately, suggesting that they had been quickly thawed out. This theory is supported by their appearance: two identical, medium-sized pretzels of uniform shape, and entirely devoid of cracking or kneading or any other signs of handling by a human. These are clearly mass-produced and quickly heated straight from the freezer. A little butter may have been brushed on for color.

So much for the appearance. Next came the taste test. I tried a bite of pretzel without any sauce. It had all the flavor and excitement of pencil shavings. Seriously. This was as bland as a holiday card from your local real estate agent.

But then I tried the beer cheese. I fell immediately in love. Where have you been all my life? This is the apotheosis of beer cheese, with equal parts cheddar and IPA. The presence of beer is so pronounced that it probably requires its own ABV notice. There’s also a bit of a spicy kick, which resolves into a slow burn after a bites.

This is hands down the best beer cheese I’ve tasted since I began this project. I literally licked the cup clean.

After my meal my server disclosed that the pretzels are delivered from Sysco, which should come as no surprise. But he also confirmed that the beer cheese is house-made. And it shows. So even though the pretzel was a disappointment, I give the dish 2.5 stars, earned entirely from the beer cheese.

PRETZEL TRIVIA

Attentive readers will recall that I once drove through the town of Freeport, Illinois, whose high school baseball team is called the Freeport Pretzels.

And that raises the question: How many pretzel brands have their own mascots? Think hard. Do you remember any?

The one that comes immediately to mind for me is Mister Salty, the mascot of Nabisco’s eponymous pretzel brand. Does this ring a bell?

Mister Salty was conceived in 1966, and I can state from experience that these were the saltiest, blood-pressure-raisingest, tongue-dissolvingest pretzels on the market. I mean, just look at them! Their surface area is strewn with enormous chunks of sodium chloride. And then there’s Mister Salty himself, with his bad case of measles or hives or whatever that is all over his body. These things were salt porn. No one knows for sure how much salt they contained, because they were discontinued about the time nutrition labeling laws came into being. But suffice it so say that, far from downplaying their sodium content, Mister Salty pretzels positively reveled in it. After all, this was the era of Sugar Smacks and menthol cigarettes.

The only other pretzel mascot I could find is “Twistee,” who represents Auntie Anne’s. I can’t figure this guy out. He’s blue, wears enormous clown-shoes, and has a peace sign for a face. Does any of this evoke a pretzel? This is something out of a bad trip.

If you’re aware of any other pretzel mascots, please comment below!