Mountain Dew, moonshine and a little bit of fire in honor of Pittsburgh-West Virginia renewing their hate vows.
College football is back.
Technically, it’s been back for a few days. While Week 0 gave us a spectacular Scott Frost meltdown and performances from Illinois and Vanderbilt that bordered on “hopeful,” it was a gas station hot dog compared to the seven-course meals that will follow. Week 1 has its share of throwaway games, but also plays host to a smattering of top-25 matchups (No. 11 Oregon vs. No. 3 Georgia, No. 23 Cincinnati vs. No. 19 Arkansas and No. 5 Notre Dame vs. No. 2 Ohio State).
It also features the revival of one of the greatest rivalries in the sport. Pittsburgh and West Virginia have met in the Backyard Brawl 104 times. They haven’t seen each other on the gridiron since realignment separated the neighboring(ish) schools in 2012. The dulcet tones of “Take Me Home (Country Roads)” are set to return to Heinz, sigh, Acrisure Stadium, leaving us with not only a great football game but also a stellar excuse to drink on a Thursday.
So let’s drink on a Thursday. And let’s make up a drink that pairs perfectly with Monongahela-region hate.
The Ignited Couch Bomb
Named for the West Virginia tradition of celebrating around incendiary furniture, I tried to combine the best of West Virginia and Western Pennsylvania in the worst possible way.
Ingredients:
- 1.5 oz moonshine
- 6 oz, Mountain Dew
- fire (optional)
Mountain Dew is the unofficial state drink of West Virginia. If you try looking up “What do they drink most in WV?” you’ll get some entries about how the state has a mean gin and tonic game. While I won’t dispute you can get some top quality quinine down there, that’s Mountain Dew country kiiiiiiiid. I’m not about to sip something with a lime wedge before watching Pitt and West Virginia renew their hate vows.
So there’s our base. I only had cans, which adds a layer of inauthenticity to my proceedings. If you want the true, date night at Cabela’s experience of both Western Pennsylvania and the Mountain State, you’d bring a 16.9 ounce bottle for proper dip disposal.
The moonshine is something called “American XXX Born,” which I have no affinity towards. It was pulled out of the bargain cart at Woodman’s as a $4.99 fifth I could earmark for stupid experiments like this. It is clear, appears to have been aged roughly 15 minutes inside the trunk of a Pontiac Fiero and is generally a bad decision.
But what is college football if not a 150-year tradition of bad decisions? To compound that, let’s introduce fire to the equation. Lighting shots is basically why we can’t find Bacardi 151 anymore, and it’s an immensely stupid way to drink. Without it, however, this is simply a “couch bomb” and, thus, an insult to the good people of Morgantown.
Fortunately, mine only kinda ignited — it’s only (?) 103 proof — so my danger was merely from the poison within. The good news is, it tastes kinda… good? It went down easier than expected and packed the punch necessary to watch a post-Kenny Pickett Pitt return to mediocrity.
It’s maybe not a great “Thursday night, I have to work tomorrow” drink. But for a Saturday night when you’ve got to get into the stadium fast and need to put on that inside coat, yep, that’ll work.
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