Ifeel like someone threw a carton of milk at my head and knocked me into the ocean. I have a hangover like I just washed up on Revere Beach in an old replica Wes Welker jersey and a Bruins hat.

I just drank a clam chowder-inspired mimosa, because the NFL’s official champagne sponsor told me to.

It was an opaque, milky nightmare of lemon, clam juice and tart sparkling wine. It was a Lovecraftian show of brut force that takes you on a grimy roller coaster ride of salty, abrasive flavors all kept in check by a riptide of heavy cream.

Taste-wise, it wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever had . Emotionally, this is about as scarring as the Aaron Boone home run in the 2003 ALCS.

I ate it so you don’t have to: The ChowderMosa

I suppose an explanation is in order.

Recently, André California Cham

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