When Does a Beer List Become Beer Porn?

I have a confession to make: I've been reading the draft list of Churchkey in DC almost daily for a few weeks now. I can't stop. It's just so... lurid.

And it doesn't even have any of those flowery, often inaccurate descriptors that plague the menus so many other haunts. There is only beer director Greg Engert's system of categorizing his offerings by broad yet useful profile: Crisp. Hop. Smoke. Cask. Malt. Roast. Fruit & Spice. Tart & Funky. Two pages, front and back, showing off a potent combination of quality, quantity and diversity distributed across 52 taps.

It's not the genres that turn me on, though. It's the actresses. Uerige Alt. Zinnebir. Bell's Cherry Stout on cask. Oliver's Bulldog Bitter, also on cask. Palo Santo Marron from a four-ounce snifter, which is frankly all you need. And these little starlets change every day.

What makes something pornography, anyway? To paraphrase an old Supreme Court ruling/joke, "I don't know, but I know it when I see it." Probably arousal is prerequisite then. I think this counts.

I haven't even told you about the food yet.