Here's two stouts for the Christmas table

So something like this but in four separate
six-packs... with tighty-whiteys on top

Well, it's Christmas time and that means I can finally tell the Christmas beer story that my Mom has been pestering me about including since she was told of this blog. She doesn't read this exactly because, well, at 83, she seems puzzled as to how the magic words appear on the TV screen attached to the typewriter. Actually, she's not quite that bad... she goes to the local library and uses their computers to regularly retrieve e-mails from my brother, Gary, in Valencia, Spain. But checking e-mails is far as she's willing to venture. I'd show her how to use Skype but I'm afraid she'd think Gary was trapped in the magic-typewriter-TV bad magic thingey. Then the whole thing turns into a scene from the movie, Poltergeist. Plus the last time I used Skype with my brother, he was in Vietnam, it was 10,000-degrees in his room and he spent the whole conversation naked. But he was good enough to cover his junk with a beer bottle whenever he stood up. Got some gratuitous butt shots I could have lived without but that disturbing imagery aside, it was, as always, great to talk with him.

"Gary, are you in there??? Donald, save your brother!!!"

Okay, the Christmas beer story... and this will truly warm your heart. I would have been, oh, 19 or 20 and Mom asked me what I wanted for Christmas. "A case of beer!" I said instantly. She scoffed, noting there was no chance I was getting that. "How about some underwear, instead?" she countered. "Nope, case of beer," I insisted. And this went on for a few weeks. Every time, I saw or talked to her, I'd blurt out, "Case of beer!" and she would counter with "Underwear!" So Christmas rolls around and spread out under the tree are four identically-sized wrapped gifts for me. Turns out my Mom had bought me four six-packs of Labatt's Blue and on top of each was a pair of tighty-whiteys underwear. I got my beer... and some underwear. Fast-forward one year and my Mom is asking Gary what he wants for Christmas. I lean over and whisper, "Say 'underwear like Donny got last year'." He looks at me and whispers back, "I don't want underwear!" So I tell him, "Just trust me on this one..."

Winter Beard notched a very high 95 on RateBeer but
only 48 style points. Why? It's deliberately different!

In keeping with the Christmas theme we have going here, a couple of stouts have struck me as perfect for the Christmas dinner table. The reigning Craft Beer Queen of Toronto, Mel, does not recommend beers to me lightly. Ever. And frankly, she couldn't have picked a better time of the year when she recommended this one, although Muskoka Brewery has more say in this matter since their Winter Beard Double Chocolate Cranberry Stout is a winter seasonal. Coming in a very cool box - you can't tell from the picture but that beard is shiny silver - this is an outstanding dessert beer. The aroma is a blast of chocolate with some coffee hints and the taste is strongly chocolate with bits of dates, cranberries and I even sensed a bit of cherry. At 8%, be prepared to undo your belt because it's packing a whoppin' 240 calories! Nice job, Muskoka, this was fantastic. You might want to graduate this from the seasonal section and six-pack this bad boy. And Mel, another excellent find... as always!

Like Winter Beard, this also got 95 on
RateBeer but only 47 style points. Why?
Maybe the bourbon, bourbon, bourbon!

Okay, everyone has that uncle who loves his bourbon. With me, it was my now-late Uncle Bob in Winnipeg. Boisterous, loud, happy, total joker guy, he was my "fun" uncle. Aaaaaaaand I am just now making the connection from the bourbon to his happy-go-lucky personality. Hey, I was a kid. His traditional post-meal naps on the couch also make more sense now. Here's a beer Uncle Bob would have loved - Nickel Brook's Old Kentucky Bastard Imperial Stout. What the Burlington brewery does is take their Bolshevik Bastard Stout and age it another year in Kentucky bourbon barrels. Its aroma is roasted malts, vanilla and bourbon, bourbon, bourbon!!! The taste has some chocolate but also strong hints of figs, coffee, vanilla and... something else. What is it? Oh yeah... bourbon, bourbon, bourbon!!! I'm not even a bourbon drinker but I loved what it does to this 10% stout. Don't want it now? Wait a year. Or two. Or three. It just keeps aging and getting richer in taste. I can think of two friends that will enjoy this even more than me: co-worker Saga and New Zealand college buddy Stevil St Evil who both love their bourbon. I'm also gonna guess fictional TV anchorman Ron Burgundy would pound this stuff. And then say really inappropriate things... like my Uncle Bob did. Again, I was a kid. I didn't catch any of this at the time. Much like now, pretty much oblivious. I was A.D.D. back in the day when they simply said, "I think this boy's head is in the clouds."

Please, Flying Monkeys Craft Brewery and Central City
Brewery: do NOT make this red ale treat a limited edition. 

Okay, I was gonna talk about some new IPAs I've tried but you guys hear about enough about those so it can wait until 2014. Yeah, sorry... should have warned you. Not stopping. In the words of the late great Walter White, well, I'm gonna let him tell it his way... just click on this link: Brew Ha Ha? Nothing stops this train! So like that... but without the Meth. So instead, let's hop forward (yeah, I said hop) to Brew Ha Ha's 2013 Christmas Wish List. Ummm, some of which involves IPAs. Okay, pretty much all of it is about IPAs... but not new IPAs. Sue me.

First up to my friends at Spearhead Brewing who brew their outstanding Hawaiian Style Pale Ale out of the Cool Brewery in Etobicoke: Where is your Big Kuhana IPA? Back in April, you unveiled two versions of it at the Victory Cafe in Toronto. You used Cascade hops in one; Nelson Sauvin hops from New Zealand in the other. That was April. By the way, where the hell was my invitation? Clearly, you got the beer-lover feedback you needed. When is this 10%, 100 IBU (international bitterness units) gift from the gods gonna land in the fridge at Donny's Bar and Grill in six-packs?? Ask any woman who's ever met me: I'm not above begging!

The Waterloo Wheat belongs in the Summer
Small Batch Sampler. Yank the Traditional IPA
... you have no idea how much that hurts me

To Barrie's Flying Monkeys Craft Brewery and Surrey, BC's Central City Brewery: Collectively, you  brew two of Canada's top-ranked IPAs with your Smashbomb Atomic IPA and Red Racer IPA. I had no idea that the Red-on-Red Ale I so enjoyed at the Mill Street Oktoberfest was a collaborative effort between you two. That said, it's outstanding. It was my palate-cleanser at the Oktoberfest. Yes, a 9.5% red ale as a palate cleanser? I'm messed up - I get that. But it also says "limited edition" all over the bottle. Could you, uhh, un-limit that and have Flying Monkeys distribute that here in Ontario in six-packs? Again, willing to beg...

To my friends at Brick Brewery in Waterloo: I loved your Winter Small Batch Sampler, particularly your Union Mills Porter which was pretty damn outstanding for a brewer of somewhat larger proportions. Your Small Batch Summer Sampler needs a tweak, though. Keep the Classic Pilsner and Jack Pine Belgian Ale but yank the Traditional IPA and replace it with the Waterloo Wheat, much more of a summer beer. Keep selling the Traditional IPA but send your brewmaster in that Small Batch lab of his with these small tender words of instruction: "Imperial IPA... go nuts! By nuts, we mean bat-shit crazy."

Imagine this... but filled with Cameron's
Rye Pale Ale. Want this. Need this...

To my favourite home-town Oakville brewer, Cameron's Brewery: You've already very recently granted one of my Christmas wishes by putting your Rye Pale Ale into traditional six-packs and shipping them out to Beer Stores and LCBOs. But set your brewery up with spigots so I can get growlers filled there. Why? Well, it's selfish but while I live in Burlington now, my Mom, the above-mentioned 83 year old sweet (I mentioned she was sweet, right?) white-haired lady needs me to come by for yard work on regular occasion and you are literally down the hill from her. I think heading home with a fresh growler of your Rye Pale Ale... well, that would kinda rock, Plus it's kind of incentive for me to come out and help out my really sweet (still kinda emphasizing the sweet old lady thing here) mother. I said she was 83, right? No pressure or anything.

Next up and I have a feeling this has nothing to do with me and my earlier begging (seriously, women, I'm a push-over - okay, moreso for breweries but give 'er a shot) but Rogue Ales (Newport, Oregon) is keeping a regular stock of their outstanding Brutal IPA in one of my Burlington liquor stores. I bought it out. Twice. The Brutal IPA is one of the most best IPAs out there. I told them I would continue to buy it out if they kept shipping it. And it keeps returning - there's 24 of those bad boys there as I speak! I love Rogue for that. Also try their Dead Guy Ale - dynamite!

I've never had you but I love you. Please come here...

But if it is truly that simple and just a matter of casting the line in the water... well, here goes nothing. To Epic Brewing in Auckland, New Zealand: my friends, Stevil St Evil and top-of-the-class beer writer-blogger Neil Miller get to drink Hop Zombie Double IPA all they want. At their leisure. I'm not saying this is unfair... because war and pestilence and bad diseases are unfair. Dropping your iPhone into the toilet and no access to Hop Zombie are far less unfair. But did I mention my 83-year-old Mom? Boy, I bet an 83-year-old sweet white haired Mom would love her son to have some of this beer. If you could just ship it to an LCBO in Burlington, Ontario, Canada, wow, you would make her so happy. Just sayin'...

Okay, Stevil St Evil had nothing new to add but will be crapping on Year End Lists in his next outing which, of course, lines up with my next blog... That Was The Beer (Half) Year That Was. I can take the mockery. But my comely young lass, KC??? Always a fresh one with this girl! Here's the latest Confessional of a Former Fat Girl that we're gonna call: It's a trap!

Okay, that's it.... that's all... and I am outta here!!! Until next time, I remain...