Our friends over at Cult Tacoma graciously share their incredible productions and words with us (and you!) Read the rest of the article on their site.
Every Tuesday it’s as if a little sliver of the Ice Age descends upon 1022 South, minus the hoarfrost and woolly mammoth tusks. It’s when proprietor Chris Keil summons 150-pound blocks to his small cocktail bar and takes to them like a man possessed. Possessed, specifically, with a very sharp chainsaw.
Nobody is asking Chris to dismantle 150-pound slabs into rugged, fist-sized rocks customized purely for patrons’ drinking pleasure. It’s a choice—and admittedly, a good one. Each a diamond in the rough, winking up at you from your glass with the self-sufficient pluckiness of a Klondike gold miner and the crystalline purity of glacier melt.
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