Note: An occasional feature in which Y&H revisits a previously reviewed restaurant.

It’s Friday night, and the regulars at Thirsty Bernie Sports Bar & Grill have settled onto their usual barstools to toast the end of the week with a few drafts and another ninth-inning meltdown by the Nats. The atmosphere is unlike most sports bars: No one here has that thousand-yard stare, lost in the competition on the telly.

There are reasons, of course, for their lack of interest. The Nationals have become the Branson, Mo., of baseball franchises: Only old-timers in love with the “game” and their youth follow the team. The Caps are between contests, and the other hockey playoff has all the appeal of a tax audit. No, Thirsty Bernie is a neighborhood sports bar that emphasizes the first descriptor. Locals mostly gather around the bar to bitch, flirt, and gossip. One woman greets everyone with the same sentence: “Oh, I’ve missed you!”

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That was the question I put to the celebrated meat man when he called up out of the blue this afternoon, asking me what he should call his forthcoming charcuterie line. (For the record, I told him he should just name the stuff after himself, no matter how difficult “Stachowski” is to pronounce for people who spend all their damn time silently working a computer; the Eastern European surname would lend the meats instant credibility, at least for those who haven’t already sampled Jamie Stachowski’s sausage, pates, and cured products.)

Read More “So Where the Hell Can You Find Jamie Stachowski Charcuterie in This Town?” »