Baseball Player or Menu Item?

Just about every year around Thanksgiving, I experience these two things:

  1. I start missing baseball already
  2. I want to eat at all the cozy spots in St. Louis

Because I can have neither (dietary restrictions prevent me from enjoying those cozy spots, like Juniper, Mai Lee, and Farmhaus), I’ve had to express/vent those longings through another thing that I love: etymology. Naming things. So, instead of enjoying spoonbread and gin at Juniper, I sit at my desk and create a questionable menu using only the names of retired Major League Baseball players.



Oyster Burns (1884–95): Simple deep-fried oysters, elevated for no good reason with a panko crust

Buck Marrow (1932–38): Bone marrow from parts unknown that tastes better than it looks; affectionately referred to by locals as “skeleton butter”


Chuck Churn (1957–59): Everything you love about chili and a hearty stew but with no resemblance to (or ingredients from) either; you continue to order but don’t know why

Irish Meusel (1914–27): Medicinal, beige, and piping hot; the perfect hangover prep


Herb Cobb (1929): A traditional cobb salad, but herbier

Ham Patterson (1909): Unheralded bowl of lettuce and ham; the closer-turned-middle-reliever of salads


Ham Hyatt (1909–18): Just a ham sandwich, really, but open-faced (to cut on costs and look fancy, like a 90s hotel sandwich)

Big Jeff Pfeffer (1905–11): A massive stack of a sammy, filled with shaved pfatback, strips of pflatiron and pflank steak, crumbled pfeta, one pfried egg, and pfresh fparsley


Pretzels Getzein (1884–92): Made-to-order and seasonal, these challah pretzels go fast, so get ’em while the Getzein’s good

Squiz Pillion (1915): Don’t ever order this

House Specialities (because the extra “i” in “specialities” makes them taste better)

Sweetbread Bailey (1919–21): Because you wouldn’t eat a paper boat full of “glands”

Snapper Kennedy (1902): A classic fish dish, but a bit more catholic and presidential

Coot Veal (1958–63): Slightly chewy with a bit of rancor, a result of sourcing only old, cranky young cattle who grew up too fast


Draught (yes, “ugh” instead of “f”)

Urban Shocker (1916–28): IPA with a hint of gentrification

Dutch Zwilling (1910–16): A frighteningly pale lager

Dutch Stryker (1924–26): Like Dutch Zwilling, but with self-esteem issues

Mother Watson (1887): A supremely comforting stout

Phenomenal Smith (1884–91): Gluten-free double-dark ale, so, let’s be honest, not very phenomenal

Stubby Magner (1911): A bloviating porter, best consumed with a cigar

Boom-Boom Beck (1924–25): A German pilsner with a 12.1% ABV, just because

Showboat Fisher (1923–32): A Trappist ale waiting to break free

By the Bottle

Icehouse Wilson (1934): Beered-up water, sold only by the trough

Cactus Keck (1922–23): Half beer, half citrus, half the reason you love your uncle


Flame Delhi (1912): It’s just chai tea in a glass puff-painted with flames

Peaches Graham (1902–12): A virgin peach lambic with crackery bits bobbing around

Mixed Drinks

Rebel Oakes (1909–15): Bourbon and water best drunk on the Pinteresty log stumps in the corner

Salty Parker (1936): A savory martini for those embarrassed to order a Bloody Mary

Baby Ortiz (1944): Rum, soda, lime juice, sugar; good for recently retired designated hitters (not for designated drivers)

Icicle Reeder (1884): A single ice cube dipped in vodka, to be chewed on during stressful innings

Cannonball Titcomb (1986–90): Irish whiskey shot inside a wine cooler inside a tall cup of spiked Kool-Aid — ohh, yeaaah

Dixie Upright (1953): A mint julep served by a fine, tax-paying fella

Dizzy Nutter (1919): Vodka-infused Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups loitering in vodka

Jack Fimple (1983–87): Scotch on the rocks with a dash of Midwestern gumption


Glenallen Hill (1989–01): Please don’t order wine during a baseball game

A version of this post first appeared on our Food Marketing Agency blog.